Muscle Worship, Female Bodybuilders and the Greatest 75 Minutes of My Life (Part Two)

The lovely Ginger Martin. Once again, none of the ladies featured here is the woman I had a session with.
The lovely Ginger Martin. Once again, none of the ladies featured here is the woman I had a session with.

So there I was. Tuesday, May 21. Sitting at my desk, staring blankly at my computer screen.

I had a hard time concentrating at work. Getting stuff done was nearly impossible. My mind was somewhere else, far away from whatever I was supposed to be doing at my job.

Because in two days, in a little more than 48 hours, I’ll be engaging in my first ever muscle worship session with GFBB (Gorgeous Female Bodybuilder). I just don’t know where yet. This one last detail is the only thing I haven’t solidified yet with her.

Thursday at 7 p.m. Got it. But where? In Seattle? Or somewhere outside of Seattle?

But suddenly, while lounging around and superfluously passing the time, I receive a much anticipated e-mail from my personal account.

It’s from GFBB! Yes!!!

Up to this point, I felt like GFBB and I have developed good e-mail chemistry, if such a thing is possible. We’ve communicated clearly back and forth, there’s been no misunderstandings (wiring the deposit money into her account went smoothly) and she’s even cracked a joke or two toward me. It definitely appears as though this arrangement is starting off on the right foot.

I’m guessing she probably gets a lot of creepy messages from random guys (and ladies) asking her to do some ridiculous things. Fetish activities, threesomes, choking (to the point of near death), posing for photos/videos, role playing and probably even straight up sex. So it was refreshing to hear that she thinks of this as less of a “sexual” arrangement and more of a “business-like” proposition.

Kathy Johansson wearing very sexy red lingerie.
Kathy Johansson wearing very sexy red lingerie.

Her e-mail message lets me know which hotel she’s staying at during her Seattle stop. And guess what? The hotel is less than three miles away from my apartment! Holy cow! She’s staying within a stone’s throw of where I live. This definitely bodes well.

GFBB gives me her phone number and tells me to text her when I arrive at the hotel. Alright, gotcha. I can do that.

The next two days flew by quicker than a Tokyo bullet train running away from Godzilla. I decided to take a “sick day” that Thursday because I don’t want any distractions leading up to this session. I work fairly far away from my apartment and there are times when really bad traffic, combined with terrible weather, can make my commute long and arduous. I didn’t want any emotional or physical disruptions on the day of my first ever session with a gorgeous female bodybuilder. So it seemed clear to me that being “ill” that day was justifiable.

I woke up on Thursday morning feeling fresh and alive. Butterflies weren’t swarming in my stomach yet, but I could definitely tell there was a certain electrical charge flowing through my system. Let’s face it; this doesn’t happen all the time. And a guy is totally allowed to be nervous in anticipation of his first time, right?

Shawn Tan is tall, elegant, beautiful and sexy as hell. Can we all agree?
Shawn Tan is tall, elegant, beautiful and sexy as hell. Can we all agree?

I ate breakfast and headed out to the gym to work out. I understand I could never look as amazing as GFBB, but it never hurts to get a good workout in to get my blood flowing and to calm my nerves. I don’t normally to go the gym on afternoons, so I saw a whole different crowd than I’m used to seeing. Mostly retired folks and stay-at-home-moms.

It was leg day. Yuck.

On the agenda for the day were squats, lunges and other leg machine exercises. During my entire workout all I could think about was me – yours truly – stroking GFBB’s strong legs, caressing her biceps and fondling her breasts. Judging from pictures I’ve seen of her, she definitely has a bountiful pair of breasts. This is without a doubt something I was looking forward to experiencing!

The gorgeous Kathy Connors demonstrating the nerdy/sexy dynamic.
The gorgeous Kathy Connors demonstrating the nerdy/sexy dynamic.

After my grueling workout (leg day is always grueling. Just ask anyone who actually does it!), I then walked over to the grocery store across the street from the gym. At the store I bought a nice bottle of wine to give to her as a gift. I figure it’s the least I can do to demonstrate how thankful I am that she’s willing to let me have a session with her. I then went to the bank in the same complex to withdraw the rest of the money I need to pay her.

Upon returning home, it suddenly hit me. I’m about to participate in my first ever session with a gorgeous female bodybuilder. Don’t get me wrong; I know I’m about to do this (I’ve had this planned for at least a month), but it wasn’t until this moment, with a bottle of wine and an envelope full of cash in my possession, that it really started to sink in.

I lay on my bed and tried to think of nothing. Not think about playing hooky from work. Not think about whether this session will be a disappointment or not. Not think about what she’ll think of me once she meets me. Not even think about what I’ll eat for dinner after the session is over. I tried to think of nada, nothing, zilch.

But I couldn’t. I had butterflies dancing in my stomach (they were probably participating in a drunken rave by now), my blood pressure skyrocketing through the roof and enough nervous energy of fifty chorus girls making their Broadway debut. I had to do something in the next hour to pass the time…

I then thought of what to do: Write a blog post.

So, I did. You can read it here.

After publishing this new post, I looked at my phone and saw it was a little after 6 p.m. My appointment with GFBB is at 7 p.m. The venue is less than three miles away. I could get there in ten minutes. Theoretically, I could leave here at 6:30 and still be early. But darn it, I have to leave now! All this fiddling around is making me go insane.

Besides, what if I get a flat tire? What if my car magically runs out of gas? What if there’s some catastrophic accident on the road that will delay me for forty minutes? Yes, I should leave now just to play it safe.

Damn. Logic has completely left my brain. All that’s left are nothing but an aching libido and flaming nerves. I should definitely leave now or risk suffering a subdural hematoma right here in my apartment.

It never hurts to show a picture of Kim Perez, does it? No, it certainly doesn't.
It never hurts to show a picture of Kim Perez, does it? No, it certainly doesn’t.

Before departing, I check my e-mail one last time to make sure I have her room number. Room 132. Okay…I’ve looked at Google Maps enough times to know where this hotel is like the back of my hand, so I’m golden on that front.

Alright. Time to go!

No more than twelve minutes later, I’m sitting in the parking lot of the hotel where GFBB is staying. Yikes! This shit is getting real! And to think that this Beautiful Muscle Goddess is a within shouting distance of where I live. Hot damn. I feel like a teenage girl about to meet a heartthrob pop star for the first time. If my voice starts to squeak indeterminately and I get the sudden urge to pass out, I’ll know why.

What time is it? Hmmmmmm…6:19.

6:20.

6:21.

6:22.

6:23.

6:24.

Holy hell. Could time move any slower?!!!

Seriously. Time could not move fast enough. As I sat there, in my car, on an overcast day in the Pacific Northwest, I began to think: Is she with a client right now at this moment? If not, could I text her right now and perhaps get a good fifteen or twenty minutes of extra session time with her? Speaking of which, is she a clock-watcher or is she very loose with how long these things last? Am I her last appointment of the day or does she have three or four other horny guys scheduled later this evening? Could some of her other clients be sitting in their cars right now, twiddling their thumbs, just like me? What if–

You know what? Screw it! I’m going to text her. I know it’s early (by the time I make this decision, it’s about 6:45), but what the hell? I’m here, aren’t I? I was told to text her just as soon as I got here, so I might as well follow along with her directions.

Nikki Fuller is one of my all-time favorites. Need I explain why?
Nikki Fuller is one of my all-time favorites. Need I explain why?

So, I texted her to let her know I was here.

A few moments later, she replies, saying “Ok u can come to my room now.”

Well, if the lady says so…

I got out of my car, locked the door and made the “long” trek (it felt long, okay!!!) to the entrance of the hotel. Thankfully, there weren’t a whole lot of people around, except for an older Asian couple who looked as though they just arrived in town. I quickly entered the hotel, intentionally avoided making eye contact with the front desk staff and took a sharp right turn toward her room.

On one hand, I want to look like I belonged here; but on the other hand, if they don’t remember me, would they ask me what business I had being here? Better play it safe and speed walk while keeping my head down. It probably isn’t too often when a random dude comes in to their premises to meet a strange woman for a sexually-charged muscle worship session.

Walking down the long corridor, complete with a dark red carpet and Seattle-themed artwork, I decided to use the bathroom before knocking on her door. Whenever I get really nervous, I get the urge to pee. Better do it now versus wasting time later using the toilet during my session!

This is Sarah Hayes. Baby got back, n'est-ce pas?
This is Sarah Hayes. Baby got back, n’est-ce pas?

Minutes later, I left the bathroom and proceeded forward to meet my Fate. I felt like a death row inmate making his last trip down the prison hallway before being electrocuted. Overdramatic? Of course. But if there’s ever an occasion to be unapologetically theatrical, now is the time.

I stood in front of room #132 and took a deep breath. This is it, Ryan. This is the moment you get to meet up close and personal (and hopefully, get really personal later on) with a famous female bodybuilder who’s strong, gorgeous, accomplished, well-regarded and amicable. This is it, buddy!

Another deep breath.

Exhale.

Extend hand.

Make a fist.

Knock on the door.

Wait.

The door then opens.

It creeks open ominously, almost romantically, as if I were a lost prince exploring a magical castle in a Disney movie.

I peeked my head inside to see who opened the door. Is it her? Is it–

And there she is.

There she is.

There. She. Is.

THERE. SHE. IS.

Holy cow. Holy mother of mercy. Wow!

I only have one word to describe this moment:

Damn.

Continued in Muscle Worship, Female Bodybuilders and the Greatest 75 Minutes of My Life (Part Three)

Muscle Worship, Female Bodybuilders and the Greatest 75 Minutes of My Life (Part One)

Please note: None of the FBBs featured in this blog post is the one I set up the session with. It just never hurts to post photos of strong, gorgeous women.
Please note: None of the FBBs featured in this blog post is the one I set up the session with. It just never hurts to post photos of strong, gorgeous women.

Anyone who has a female muscle fetish can understand how frustrating it can be.

We love women with muscles, but women with a lot of muscles aren’t exactly common.

Yes. This is very true. How often do you see a lady with the muscular frame of Sheila Bleck walk down the street, shop at your grocery store, patronize your favorite coffee joint or stroll through your local park? Unless you work with professional bodybuilders and athletes for a living, the answer is probably not (and if you do happen to associate with female bodybuilders on a daily basis, we really need to exchange jobs!).

So guys (and gals) who love female muscle are more often than not stuck in the aggravating situation of being in love with a body type that’s more accessible through a Google search than hitting the bars at happy hour. Imagine being into blondes in a world where all you see are brunettes. Talk about agonizing!

But…for those of us who like muscular women and would love nothing more than to meet one, there’s a way to do it. It can be pricy, but if you do your homework it can be a worthwhile experience.

As you can probably imagine, being a professional bodybuilder isn’t exactly a very lucrative profession. It’s an expensive lifestyle (food, supplements, personal trainers, gym memberships, equipment, etc.) and doesn’t bring in much money. Only the top competitors win enough money to call it a career and endorsing commercial products isn’t always an viable option.

If you could get paid to be beautiful, Kristy Hawkins would be a billionaire by now.
If you could get paid to be beautiful, Kristy Hawkins would be a billionaire by now.

So, many bodybuilders (I would guess mostly female) offer “sessions” to bodybuilding fans across the world. These “sessions” often involve “muscle worship,” an activity where clients feel, caress and touch the muscles of a bodybuilder for a fee. You don’t literally worship this person, but it comes awfully close.

Some FBBs offer wrestling (competitive and semi-competitive), sensual massages, grappling, scissor squeezing, posing, lifting, role playing and BDSM services in addition to muscle worship. They often travel around the country (and world) and visit major cities where enough fans are interested in paying for their services. Muscle worship sessions mostly take place in hotel rooms, but sometimes they can occur in private homes or studios if the FBB feels comfortable doing that.

I’ve known about this sort of thing for years but never thought about doing it until recently. Firstly, it’s pricy. Some sessions can cost up to $800 or as low as $400 for an hour. That’s quite a bit of money for someone who’s not exactly rolling in the dough. Secondly, muscle worship sessions (especially the sensual kinds) come dangerously close to prostitution, which I’m not inherently against, but it does come with its own social stigma.

I have nothing against prostitution per se, and I’ll admit my perspective on this matter has changed over the years, but I’ve always felt like I’m better than that. Pay someone for sex? Even if actual sex isn’t involved (and in most cases of muscle worship, full-service sex isn’t involved), this still sounds like something a desperate loser would resort to because they can’t get this anywhere else.

But on the other hand, this is different. Female bodybuilders aren’t exactly common. If feeling the body of a muscular woman is a kink of mine, and this kink isn’t easy to fulfill, what’s the harm of paying money for it? It’s not every day when an opportunity like this comes around.

Also, please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not being judgmental toward FBBs or male bodybuilders who offer sessions. I’m not equating what they do to prostitution, nor should we stigmatize those who do work in the sex industry. My hesitancy toward paying for a muscle worship session has more to do with my personal biases than my opinion about the concept of sex work. I’ve come to realize that everyone has the right to make a living by whatever means they see necessary as long as they don’t harm anyone else or themselves. This includes female bodybuilders.

So, I decided to pursue setting up a muscle worship session after careful deliberation. I decided first to do some casual online research to see what’s out there. After a lengthy Google search, I discovered the website wb270, which is essentially the Craigslist of those seeking female muscle worship sessions. I looked at the state of Washington to find out who is either local or traveling to my region.

An absolutely stunning photo of Kris Murrell.
An absolutely stunning photo of Kris Murrell.

At first, I e-mailed a local FBB, but heard no response from her. I figured maybe she wasn’t doing that sort of thing anymore and that her contact information was left erroneously on wb270’s website. I checked back a few weeks later and discovered a particular FBB would be travelling to Seattle at the end of May.

Before I continue, I’ve decided to leave the identity of this FBB a secret because of a few reasons. I’ll explain later. For now, let’s call her GFBB (Gorgeous Female Bodybuilder).

I e-mailed GFBB and asked her how much she charges for an hour long session and if indeed she’s travelling to Seattle. She didn’t respond for the longest time, which made me assume she too wasn’t interested in my inquiry. I then began to think if somehow I came across as either too creepy, or passive, or inexperienced, or something else that’s making me appear less than trustworthy. Those thoughts crept into my mind until about a week later…

She responded!

I was so excited I felt jittery all over. GFBB isn’t just beautiful and strong, but she’s a celebrity as well. Anyone who follows the world of female bodybuilding has no doubt heard of this woman. She’s a superstar of the sport and very well known to fans all over the world. When she finally responded to my e-mail, I felt star-struck and in awe that she would actually communicate with me!

We exchanged a few e-mails back and forth, discussing her travelling schedule and such. She tells me that she’s tentatively confirmed to be in Seattle on May 23, but that she needs at least three confirmed appointments before making concrete plans. This makes sense. Why book a flight to Seattle when you have no assurance you’ll land any clients?

Feast your eyes on Jana Linke-Sippl, a woman with thighs of steel (which is putting it mildly).
Feast your eyes on Jana Linke-Sippl, a woman with thighs of steel (which is putting it mildly).

After learning about this, I asked GFBB what services she offers. She says she’s pretty open from anything ranging from semi-competitive wrestling, to grappling, to sensual muscle worship and other stuff in between. I told her muscle worship was my thing and that I wasn’t too keen about wrestling. I’m not really into that, to be honest. But touching this woman’s muscles? Yes, please!

She told me about her prices and says she offers two kinds of sessions: bikini and nude. Well, shucks! I can see her completely naked? Hell yes!

Naturally, a nude session costs more, but it was a price I was willing to pay. This sort of thing doesn’t happen to me all the time, so I better take advantage of it while I can.

We settled on this arrangement: One hour of nude muscle worship. She even says she’s willing to give a hand job at the end. Eureka!

This is why I’m choosing to keep the identity of GFBB a secret. Because this comes very close to prostitution, and there’s the possibility she could get into legal trouble if word leaks out, I’ve decided not to reveal who she is. Odds are I could mention her identity and no harm will come her way, but I don’t want to risk that. Also, she has family and friends who might not want to hear that she offers hand jobs to random guys who pay her. I mean, talk about embarrassing! In this age of the Internet, information can spread quicker than an STD at a college dormitory, so I’d sleep better at night knowing her willingness to give her customers a “happy ending” is kept off the Web. I try to be respectful to everyone’s reputation and personal comfort.

If more women around me looked like Emery Miller, I'd be a happy man.
If more women around me looked like Emery Miller, I’d be a happy man.

So…we made our deal and I wired her some money as a deposit. After asking for some cash up front, at first I was afraid she might be scamming me, but I took a risk and trusted that she truly was who she says she is and not some flimflam man trying to con my libido-fueled idiotic ass out of easy cash.

After paying her the deposit, I played the waiting game and crossed my fingers that at least two more chaps around the Seattle area would contact her and set up appointments. She says she’ll return the deposit if she can’t make the trip. While I appreciate this, I hoped like hell it wouldn’t have to come to that.

A few weeks passed and I finally heard the good news: She has three confirmed appointments, meaning we’re on for May 23. Oh happy day! Yahoo!!!

Indeed, I felt like dancing in the streets after hearing GFBB was definitely coming to my area. My heart pounded as I proceeded to think about what sort of things I’d like to do with her. Muscle worship? Caressing her body? Touching her hardened biceps? Leaving a trail of kisses down her taut back? Rubbing her powerful thighs? Receiving a hand job from her? Holy cow! All of this would be possible now.

Anyone who isn't into female muscle should take a look at Ocean Bloom and prepare to have their perspective changed permanently.
Anyone who isn’t into female muscle should take a look at Ocean Bloom and prepare to have their perspective changed permanently.

Whew. I’ve just booked my first muscle worship session ever. Wow. Is this really happening? Am I actually going to go through with this? Am I dreaming?

I sure hope I’m not dreaming. I pray that this is real.

Well, whether I like it or not, this is real. Shit is getting real. Very real. I’m a few weeks away from meeting a famous, gorgeous female bodybuilder in the flesh. I’m going to worship her flesh and touch her body. And she’s going to touch my body. And give me pleasure in ways I’ve never experienced before with a woman (see a previous blog post for further context). Hot damn.

I’ve just crossed a threshold. For the past several years, I’ve just been a female bodybuilding fan who’s admired strong women from a distance. I’ve had very limited up close and personal experiences with a muscular woman, so this will be unprecedented. Never in my life have I ever done something like this before. Who knows, I might never do something like this again.

But all I could do was wait. She said she’ll give me further information about which hotel she’ll be staying at a few days before our session. So all I can do is wait.

Waiting. Damn. I might not like having to count down the days on my calendar like a kid anticipating Christmas morning, but what else can I do? This is just like Christmas to me, except a lot more erotic.

So every day I looked at my calendar. Twenty days and counting. Nineteen days and counting. Eighteen days and counting. Seventeen days and counting…

Let the countdown begin.

Continued in Muscle Worship, Female Bodybuilders and the Greatest 75 Minutes of My Life (Part Two)

Top 10 Misconceptions About Having a Female Muscle Fetish

The fabulous Fabiola Boulanger.
The fabulous Fabiola Boulanger.

I’d like to think that one day it’ll become more acceptable to being attracted to muscular women. After all, I do sense a somewhat significant backlash against the “skinny is beautiful” aesthetic that we’ve all grown accustomed to seeing.

I’m also willing to bet the recent debate about healthcare will also spur some further dialogue about the health of our country and what it means to be healthy. Is starving yourself in order to achieve that rail thin look good for your body? The answer, of course, is a resounding NO.

Maybe someday we’ll actually see more muscular women in everyday society once we get past the irrational concept that women can’t lift weights in the gym like guys do. Face it: You all know what I’m talking about. Which demographic almost always dominates the weight room at your gym? Men. This isn’t even up for debate.

So, once we see more ladies pump iron in the weight room, perhaps this will lead more and more straight guys (and non-straight guys, to be fair) to openly admit that a women with muscle isn’t gross, but beautiful. Is it so strange to finally admit something that was once “taboo” the moment it becomes mainstream? I would hope not.

But seeing muscular women walk down the streets in droves is far from a reality and probably will never become commonplace (though one does hope and pray!) in my lifetime. Nevertheless, let’s delve into ten common misconceptions about having a female muscle fetish that we should clear up in anticipation of a complete social paradigm shift in how we define “sexy.”

I'd go to the gym more often if women like Ericca Kern were hanging around the weight room.
I’d go to the gym more often if women like Ericca Kern were hanging around the weight room.

1. Straight men who are attracted to muscular women are secretly gay.

There’s this belief out there that straight men who love a female with brawn is somehow living a lie. He’s not really straight, but instead a fabulously gay man ready to burst out of the closet with two chiseled female bodybuilders sitting on his shoulders.

If my understanding of sexuality is correct, gay men are attracted to OTHER MEN, not women. I’m heterosexual and have no desire to be intimate with a guy. I do, however, have many fantasies about being intimate with women like Gayle Moher, Tazzie Colomb, Ericca Kern and Angela Salvagno. I’m attracted to these women (and scores of others) because they’re beautiful women; regardless if their beauty is or is not commonly accepted among the general population.

That’s correct. They’re WOMEN who are BEAUTIFUL by standards that happen to be outside of the norm. My personal standards for female beauty are my own. I’m not saying you should agree with me, but you should accept this fixation of mine and move on with your life.

Sound good?

Great!

I could write a whole essay describing the beauty of Denise Masino. I just might...
I could write a whole essay describing the beauty of Denise Masino. I just might…

2. Having a female muscle fetish also means you’re into BDSM.

BDSM, for those of you who don’t know what this means, is an acronym for Bondage, Discipline (it could also be Domination) and Sadomasochism. In short, this means chains, whips, being tied up, tying up someone else, spanking, role playing, domination, submission, safe words, leather outfits, consensual pain, pleasure though pain, pleasure through risqué social relationships, pleasure through power, pleasure through the lack of power, paddles, rope, orgasm control, dungeons, anal plugs, kinky toys, blindfolds and a whole host of other elements.

You get the idea, right? Think “50 Shades of Grey,” if you’ve ever heard of that before.

Hell, at this point who hasn’t?

While many female bodybuilders often engage in BDSM activities outside of their bodybuilding careers (being a professional bodybuilder, unfortunately, isn’t a very lucrative business), there is no direct link between being having a female muscle fetish and being into the D/s subculture.

Please don’t get me wrong: I’m not judging those who are into that sort of thing. In fact, I believe that whatever you’re into is your own business and no one else’s. What happens between consenting adults in the privacy of their own homes is not for us to judge. So…I am not saying all of this because I want to distance myself from DBSM culture.

Rather, you can be attracted to an FBB and not want her to tie you up, spank you with a paddle and call you dirty names while she makes you do her bidding. Your lust for her can be very “vanilla,” just as if you had a crush on the girl next door.

Except this girl happens to have steel thighs, bulging biceps, wide pecs and rock hard abs!

But this all brings me to my next point…

Would I want Tina Lockwood's massive thighs around my neck? No, but don't knock it unless you've tried it, right?
Would I want Tina Lockwood’s massive thighs around my neck? No, but don’t knock it unless you’ve tried it, right?

3. A guy with a female muscle fetish wants a female bodybuilder to physically dominate him.

Nor is this a true statement. Speaking from my personal life, all my fantasies about being with a beautiful female bodybuilder has nothing to do with her physically dominating me.

I would love nothing more than to make love to a woman like Lisa Cross. She doesn’t have to wrestle me, sit on me, grapple me, pick me up, or pin me to the ground till I beg her to let me breathe. A simple evening with her involving candle light, a bottle of wine, fresh fruit and silky white bed sheets will suffice.

Seriously. That would be awesome.

While many guys who love female muscle are also into D/s role playing, I want to make a point that not every guy fantasizes about the same thing. Just as most regular people have a diverse range of sexual fantasies, so do guys who love ladies with muscles. We’re no different, no freakier than you are. We’re just into a different sort of woman.

Contrary to popular belief, I still find women like Kate Upton to be beautiful.
Contrary to popular belief, I still find women like Kate Upton to be beautiful.

4. A guy with a female muscle fetish isn’t attracted to “normal” looking women.

On the contrary, I find women of all types to be beautiful. When I was in high school, I had the biggest celebrity crush on Monica Bellucci, whom I thought was literally the most beautiful woman in the world.

Upon further review, there is little evidence to suggest that my assessment at the time was wrong. Even as a middle aged woman, Ms. Bellucci remains a supremely gorgeous creature. My high school-self had every rational reason to be enamored by this Italian Goddess.

Like most young men, I see beautiful women everywhere I look and frequently fantasize about being with them (guys think about sex every, what is it…seven seconds?). One young lady I particularly like at the moment is the polar opposite of a female bodybuilder: She’s small, petite and possesses absolutely no upper body strength. Kim Chizevsky could snap her like a twig if she wanted to. But I nevertheless find her supremely beautiful.

She has narrow hips, skinny legs, pale white skin and flat breasts. She’s half Asian but looks very much like she could be full. She’s smart, funny and shares a lot of the same interests as me. I’m very much in love with her, but unfortunately she doesn’t quite share the same mutual feelings (my confession of my love for her and her subsequent “friend-zoning” of me could make for a whole other blog post). Regardless, I think she’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met.

All this is to say that I’m also attracted to “normal” looking women. It’s not like guys who love muscular women find their less muscled counterparts to be repulsive. We don’t expect every woman to look like Lauren Powers or Lora Ottenad, so it’s unreasonable to assume if you don’t look like them, we don’t care. It’s not like that at all.

Having a female muscle fetish isn’t a one-track deal. It’s just one tool in the tool shed, so to speak. Of course women like Megan Fox and Kate Upton also catch our eye. But ladies like Deidre Pagnanelli and Monica Brant do as well. That’s all there is to it.

If being attracted to a woman like Gayle Moher means I'm unhealthy, then I'm one sick puppy!
If being attracted to a woman like Gayle Moher means I’m unhealthy, then I’m one sick puppy!

5. Having a female muscle fetish is a “condition” that’s unhealthy.

This is a misconception that especially gets me angry. I don’t know how common this belief is, but I do know that a small percentage of folks out there might think this.

Clinically speaking, the proper term is sthenolagnia, which means “sexual arousal from displaying strength or muscles.” This isn’t a condition. It’s just a kink. Of course, any interest that goes too far can be unhealthy. When a fetish becomes an obsession, you can be prone to adopting some very unhealthy behaviors.

Wasting money you can’t afford to spend to satisfy your kink. Alienating your friends and family. Breaking the law. Endangering your physical being and psyche. All of these things can be associated with a fetish gone too far.

But this definitely is not normal for people with a harmless and unusual fetish.

To be fair, I should say that the word “fetish” can be misleading. In some definitions, the word “fetish” implies that someone needs that particular object in order to get sexually aroused and cannot get aroused otherwise. In other words, if feet are your thing, nothing will turn you on except for feet and feet only.

This definition might be a bit extreme, but like I mentioned before, being attracted to muscular women doesn’t mean I can’t be attracted to non-muscular women. There are lots of non-FBBs who strike my fancy.

So there is nothing unhealthy about having a female muscle fetish. It doesn’t affect my personal or professional life. My relationships with my friends and family aren’t strained because of it. My relationship with women also isn’t suddenly off-the-wall because of this particular fandom. I’m perfectly normal. And many other guys who share my kink are as well.

Growing up, I considered Monica Bellucci to be the most beautiful woman on the planet. After looking at photos like this, I can see why.
Growing up, I considered Monica Bellucci to be the most beautiful woman on the planet. After looking at photos like this, I can see why.

6. A female muscle fetish is caused by unresolved childhood trauma.

Can my love for female bodybuilders be explained because of some unresolved childhood trauma? Was Mommy overbearing, despotic and cruel? Was Daddy weak, complacent and effeminate? Could this be the cause of my lust for strong women?

I’m no psychologist, but I’m guessing there’s absolutely no link between liking female muscle and having a troubled childhood. But it does seem rather tempting to make a Freudian connection between having a strong mother and gravitating toward strong women as an adult.

I’m willing to bet there’s some truth that someone who was spanked as a child (by mom, perhaps) might develop a fetish for being spanked as a grownup. But I have absolutely no empirical evidence to back me up.

Alas, I can only speak from personal experience that my attraction to female muscle is completely independent from my upbringing.

Then again, it’s hard to self-analyze, isn’t it?

Maybe I should see a shrink after all…

I don't think my attraction for Gina Davis will ever go away.
I don’t think my attraction for Gina Davis will ever go away.

7. A female muscle fetish is temporary and will eventually go away.

Sticking with this theme of a female muscle fetish being a “condition,” is it like the common cold and it will eventually go away with plenty of bed rest, cough drops and chicken soup?

I highly doubt it. This is not some sort of temporary fad that I’ll get into and eventually move on from as if it were a trend diet. The South Beach Diet, Atkin’s Diet and the recently chic Paleo Diet may come and go, but I don’t think the love for female muscle will ever go away.

If you browse chat forums that discuss muscle worship, wrestling sessions and the love for FBBs, many of these folks talk about loving female muscle for many years, sometimes dating back to childhood. It’s like a light going off: Everyone who loves muscular women can remember the exact moment they first discovered this love. Whether it was pursuing through a fitness magazine, catching a glimpse of a female bodybuilder on television or seeing a strong female character in a comic book, everyone with a female muscle fetish can share their personal testimony of “how it all started.”

This is why I very much doubt the belief that this kink will simply run its course after a new fetish is magically “discovered.”

Unfortunately, not all female bodybuilders are as beautiful as Monica Brant.
Unfortunately, not all female bodybuilders are as beautiful as Monica Brant.

8. Guys who are attracted to female bodybuilders are attracted to ALL female bodybuilders.

There are lots of FBBs whom I find attractive. Katka Kyptova, Victoria Dominguez, Tina Lockwood (who retired from bodybuilding a while back), Colette Guimond, Amber DeLuca and scores of others are some of the most beautiful women I’ve ever laid eyes on.

However, this doesn’t mean I find every female bodybuilder attractive.

I hate to say it and sound sexist, but there are some FBBs who do indeed look “gross.” Whether it’s because of veins sticking out of their skin, “masculine” faces caused by an imbalance of hormones, or some other reason, there are some FBBs in this world that don’t even come close to turning me on. While I wholeheartedly reject the notion that female bodybuilders are disgusting because women shouldn’t have muscles, unfortunately (and it hurts me to say this) this is somewhat true for a select few.

Whew. There you go. I said it. Not every muscular woman looks sexy and beautiful. I hope I don’t offend anybody out there!

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, as the old saying goes. Generally speaking, we all have our standards for what we find aesthetically pleasing in a human being. Some folks fit in those categories, and others simply do not. We should try our best not to be judgmental about these sorts of things, but that doesn’t change the fact that some women (and men!) are naturally more beautiful than others.

I have nothing against FBBs whom I don’t find pleasant to look at. They have every right to sculpt their bodies into whatever shape they want. I just don’t need to find it attractive, necessarily.

To each his own, eh?

Sandra Faas is beautiful, regardless of what others might think!
Sandra Faas is beautiful, regardless of what others might think!

9. A female muscle fetish is misogynist because we’re objectifying a muscular woman.

I’m no feminist scholar, but I’m sure some folks out there might object to us guys with the hots for strong ladies because we’re treating them like sex objects instead of human beings.

This is one misconception that might, unfortunately, have a certain degree of truth. I suppose it’s not a stretch to say that a guy who likes the muscles on a woman is similar to a guy who likes a woman with fake breasts, artificially tanned skin and excessive Botox treatments. We like what we see instead of who she is as a person.

If we lust after a woman because of her looks, does this make us sexist? This is a whole other discussion that I’m not too keen on getting into right now. But here is what I can say with a certain degree of certainty: Guys who like muscular women probably aren’t typically going to be the sexist, misogynist pigs you see on Mad Men.

I say this because I think the hatred of female bodybuilders is more fueled by sexism than the love for female bodybuilders. While objectification under any circumstances is unacceptable, I’m willing to bet if there is a group of straight men out there who is less likely to be against a woman demonstrating her independence and bodily freedom, it would be guys with a female muscle fetish.

Personally, I think it’s awesome there are women out there who could care less about what society says and choose to pursue bodybuilding regardless. I’m all for someone striving to be the best they can be at what they do. The beauty about bodybuilding is that it’s a sport where, ultimately, you’re competing against yourself more so than against other people.

Think of it this way: Us guys who like strong ladies do so because we like the way they look. Fine. But there’s a hidden layer underneath this. We also like their will, tenacity and dedication to looking the way they do. Lots of guys are scared and intimated by a woman who’s not afraid to break stereotypes.

Guys like me aren’t.

The peerless Kim Chizevsky could care less if you think muscles aren't sexy on a woman. You go girl! Keep pumping those biceps!
The peerless Kim Chizevsky could care less if you think muscles aren’t sexy on a woman. You go girl! Keep pumping those biceps!

10. A female muscle fetish is rare.

My last point is another point that might be partly true. It’s very hard to say how many guys are actually attracted to muscular women. It is fair to say that the number of guys who are open about their attraction to muscular women is rare. I’ll give you that.

But how many guys (like myself) keep their love for strong lassies a secret? As we all know, it’s a taboo to openly admit this, so this could explain why we think it’s so rare. But is it actually more prevalent but kept underground because of the stigma attached to it?

Anything that’s considered “weird” ceases to become weird once it becomes more popular. I could list a million things that fit into this category. But as much as I love female muscle, I’d be very hesitant to openly admit this fetish in casual conversation with my friends. Complete strangers on the Internet? No problem! My best friends? Uh, no.

So is a female muscle fetish rare? Maybe, maybe not. I’m in no position to say either yay or nay.

But maybe it isn’t. Maybe there are a lot of men out there who wouldn’t hesitate to confess that a woman with muscles is way more sexy than a woman with a bony body if it weren’t so “strange.” Maybe the more we see muscular woman in public, the more willing guys would be to whisper to their buddies, “Hey, she’s pretty hot. And strong, too!”

Maybe, and bear with me here, if more guys admitted to liking a girl with a little bulk, more women would abandon ridiculous fad diets and do more bench presses. Starve yourself to get skinny? Screw that! Go to the gym instead and LIFT to your heart’s delight! If we want to see more women in the weight room, all we simply need to do is encourage them. Hmmmmm…

Is strong the new skinny? We can only hope so.

Or, at least, I can only hope so.

Female Muscle and Masculine Insecurity

The gorgeous Debi Laszewski.
The gorgeous Debi Laszewski.

I often wonder why being attracted to muscular women isn’t more mainstream.

Of course, there are the obvious reasons, such as muscular women aren’t commonplace, “society” (however you define that) believes skinny is beautiful and the perception that women with muscles look too much like men.

All these reasons are valid and definitely hold a degree of truth, but there lies a deeper explanation. And that explanation can be summarized into two words: Masculine insecurity.

One has to conclude that, by and large, straight men in America aren’t encouraged to openly admit they like muscular women out of fear they’d be labeled as “not a real man.” What real man would like a woman who is stronger and bigger than himself? I mean, do you really want to marry a lady who can bench press more than you in front of your friends at the gym? Talk about embarrassing.

Then again, one has to also wonder whether this fear is based on other people’s judgments or actual personalized fear. Are guys more afraid of the pure fact that a woman is be stronger than him or the public ridicule that comes with it? It seems like what other people think about you is more important than how you think about yourself.

There’s also the literal fear of a muscular woman.

Are some guys afraid that muscular women are more dangerous than normal women? If your muscular girlfriend gets mad at you, will she start hitting and beating you up like an abusive partner? Would you be powerless to effectively fight back?

I don’t think there’s a strong stereotype (thought it does exist to a degree) that female bodybuilders are more aggressive and violent in nature. Being strong doesn’t mean you always use that strength for belligerent purposes. I don’t think people believe male bodybuilders are more dangerous than “normal” guys.

Blonde Muscle Goddess Melissa Dettwiller.
Blonde Muscle Goddess Melissa Dettwiller.

Nor do we believe professional athletes are more prone to violent behavior than non-athletes. An NFL linebacker may spend their Sundays pounding guys to a pulp, but I don’t think that behavior necessarily translates off the field. Granted, there are professional athletes across all sports who can be violent at times, but that has nothing to do with their profession.

Sadly, plenty of people who don’t play sports for a living commit acts of violence in everyday life. Violence is a result of a large variety of social cues, which are obviously too numerous to explain. Suffice to say it’s foolish to equate muscular strength with any tendency toward violence.

It could be true that people predisposed to aggressive behavior tend to gravitate toward hobbies that exhibit these characteristics; such as boxing, hunting or martial arts. But correlation doesn’t prove causation, a sentiment you’ll hear often on Internet discussion forums.

So, if engaging in activities that create muscular strength (like weightlifting, sports or physically demanding jobs) does not automatically mean that person will be more aggressive, this also means men have nothing to fear when it comes to interacting with muscular women. Obviously, muscular women don’t exactly show up in our lives every day, but discussions surrounding strength and femininity do.

And this is where a heterosexual male’s fear of strong women comes into play. We fear a muscular woman will “emasculate” us, not in a physical sense (a female bodybuilder isn’t going to rip off your penis during foreplay!), but in a psychological sense. She makes us feel inadequate because her strength is superior to ours. As the so-called “weaker sex,” a woman isn’t supposed to be stronger than a man.

Maybe this is why so many male sports fans make fun of female athletes. We tell athletes like Danica Patrick and Venus and Serena Williams to “go back into the kitchen” because we feel emasculated that they’ve achieved something we haven’t. They’ve become good at a professional sport. Most of us aren’t professional athletes who get paid millions to play a game. Most of us pay the bills doing something less glamorous with our lives.

This might also explain why rabid male sports fans will worship somebody like LeBron James or Adrian Peterson while making fun of Abby Wambach for being a lesbian. We admire James and Peterson for being supreme athletes but are secretly jealous of Wambach because she can score more women than most of us guys. And she’s a chick!

Also, we can rationalize that athletes like Kobe Bryant, Justin Verlander and Tom Brady are where they are because they have more natural skill, support systems (professional trainers and coaches) and personal drive than us. So we accept the fact that they’re wildly successful multimillionaires. But how can you explain Kim Clijsters? How can a woman be so rich and famous while I’m not? Preposterous!

Let’s look at this from another angle: the relationship between a female muscle fetish and BDSM culture.

I can only speak for myself on this point. I’m obviously very attracted to muscular women, but I don’t consider myself into BDSM kink culture. I’d love to have sex with a woman like Alina Popa or Amber Deluca, but I have no desire to be tied up, spanked, slapped or wrestled by either of them.

Meet Coco Crush. She could "crush" you if she wanted to, but I don't think she would.
Meet Coco Crush. She could “crush” you if she wanted to, but I don’t think she would.

I should hurry up and say that I’m not against BDSM, nor am I judging anyone who is into that. Not at all! Rather, I’m just saying I’m not personally into that sort of thing. Anything consensual is fair game in my book. What I do want to say is that being attracted to female muscle isn’t the same thing as being into bondage, submission or sadomasochism. Rather, my attraction is purely based on other reasons.

We’ve just explored that the backlash against muscular women by heterosexual men can be based upon a combination of sexism and irrational fears. But it can also be based on prejudice and the mistaken belief that if you can lure a muscular woman into bed, she’ll “take over” and become the “man” in the relationship.

I’ve never had sex with a muscular woman, but I’m willing to bet their bedroom behaviors and preferences are no different than any other woman. She just wants to have a good time like you! I highly doubt she’ll want to grapple you and make you into her “little slave” without your consent. If she’s into that sort of thing and you are too, great. But I’m willing to bet not every FBB shares that kink.

Seriously, who wouldn't want to be Deidre Pagnanelli's little slave?
Seriously, who wouldn’t want to be Deidre Pagnanelli’s little slave?

If only I could ask a hundred or so straight men to anonymously answer me this simple question: Are you attracted to a woman with muscles?

I’d like to think if they could honestly answer without anyone knowing their answer, a good percentage of guys would say “yes.” I can tell you from my personal experience that I’d say yes in private but would be less likely to admit it in public.

Of course, no one has ever directly asked me if I’m into muscular women, so I have no idea how I’d answer. Maybe it all depends on who’s asking and why.

Now…I don’t want to come across as a man-basher. I’m far from it. I’m a man, too! I realize embarrassment, fear, misinformation and sexism aren’t the only reasons why a straight guy wouldn’t be attracted to a lady with bulging biceps. Sexual attraction, ultimately, is a personal thing determined by each individual.

To each his own. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. It’s all a matter of opinion. Blah, blah, blah. We’ve all heard this before. Maybe some guys genuinely don’t dig this particular aesthetic. They’d rather go for Kim Kardashian instead of Colette Guimond. There is no right or wrong answer.

If hypermuscularity isn't your thing, check out professional figure competitor and fitness model Erin Stern. Isn't she ridiculously pretty?
If hypermuscularity isn’t your thing, check out professional figure competitor and fitness model Erin Stern. Isn’t she ridiculously pretty?

But my real point is that regardless of what you’re into, can we stop judging each other for it? I’m into muscular women. There you go. Can we move on with our lives? I’m no more freaky than you are. In fact, I might be less freaky because I can actually put into words what my penis tells me is attractive in a woman, while some guys are only attracted to someone because a Photoshopped magazine cover told them to be.

Maybe someday it will be more socially acceptable for a guy to admit he likes muscular women. Maybe someday it will be accepted into the “mainstream.”

Maybe.

So, if that day ever comes, here’s my stereotypical Seattle hipster moment for the day:

I was into beautiful muscular women BEFORE it was mainstream.

Asian Boy and Muscle Girl

When you imagine "Muscle Girl," think about Nikki Fuller.
When you imagine “Muscle Girl,” think about Nikki Fuller.

Asian Boy was obsessed with Her. He couldn’t stop thinking about Her. Every night he fantasized about Her. The thought of Her beautiful muscular body grinding against his tiny, scrawny Asian body drove him wild with ecstasy.

Tonight is no exception. Asian Boy is in his apartment watching his favorite video of Her: a crudely shot YouTube video of Her pumping iron at the gym wearing nothing but a bright green bikini.

You can see every inch of Her magnificent body. The bikini leaves little to the imagination.

He can see every drip of sweat streak down Her thick muscled body. He stares in awe as She bench presses 315, squats 405 and deadlifts 500. He watches Her pose for the camera after Her strenuous workout – every muscle on Her divine body glistening, a valuable piece of art in the flesh.

Asian Boy has seen this video hundreds of times. It never gets old. To his misfortune, this is the only video he could find of Her. He’s searched everywhere for another. But so far he’s found nothing.

God, She’s the most gorgeous woman on the planet! Asian Boy is completely enamored by a woman he’s never met. But, in a strange way, he feels a powerful connection to Her. There’s something about the way She looks into the camera that convinces Asian Boy She’s looking specifically at him.

He knows this is crazy, but he knows it’s true.

The woman’s name is Michelle. No last name is given. She’s a professional bodybuilder and powerlifter. She’s competed in contests around the globe. No other information exists about Her.

Where does She live? How old is She? How did She get into weightlifting? What kind of grueling training regimen does She follow in order to develop Her phenomenal muscle mass?

Michelle is a Divine Muscle Goddess of spectacular proportions. The video description details her measurements:

Height: 6’6”
Weight: 267 lbs.
Biceps: 21 inches.
Calves: 19 inches.
Quadriceps: 30 inches.

Wow. Can you believe it? She’s a BEAST. She puts male bodybuilders to shame with Her incredible measurements.

Michelle, Michelle, Michelle. Every Google search turns up nothing. He’s tried “Michelle female bodybuilder,” “Michelle powerlifter,” “Michelle muscle woman,” “Michelle female bodybuilder and powerlifter.”

He’s tried them all. But nothing comes close to finding Her.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It’s like She doesn’t exist.

But he knows She exists. She has to.

For now, Asian Boy is preoccupied watching a six and a half minute video he’s seen over and over again. He’s memorized every single frame. He’s hopelessly obsessed with this Powerful Muscle Angel. She’s blonde, exceptionally tall, looks to be between 40 and 50 years old and is entirely covered from head to toe with incredibly bulging, rippling muscles.

Asian Boy wouldn’t be surprised if She could bend a crowbar with Her bare hands or rip a phone book in half. Asian Boy could imagine Her doing a whole host of amazing feats of strength.

The video ends. But he wants more of Her. He can’t get enough of Her. He decides to watch it again.

The video starts from the top. Muscle Girl is back at it – bench pressing ten strenuous repetitions till She’s completely out of breath with sweat dripping out of every pore of Her heavenly body.

Asian Boy knows he’ll never be able to make love to a woman like Muscle Girl. Michelle must have countless men clamoring to be with Her. She must have a husband who’s without a doubt the luckiest man on Earth. He’s privileged to be with the most beautiful and strongest woman on the planet.

Asian Boy often fantasized about what it would be like to make love to Muscle Girl. The video half over, Asian Boy closes his eyes and lets his imagination take off…

Dusk.

A secluded beach house on an exotic Caribbean island.

Asian Boy and Muscle Girl enter the house after a long walk on the sandy beach. After a hot and humid 97 degree day, the evening has cooled off considerably.

Muscle Girl stands at least a foot taller than Asian Boy, but Asian Boy feels absolutely no insecurity. Muscle Girl is at least 25 years older than Asian Boy, but She feels no qualms about Her age. She’s embraced Her age and understands it’s only a number. At heart, She’s still a young free-spirited woman.

Muscle Girl just won the Ms. Olympia bodybuilding competition for the twelfth year in a row and continues to break world records at a staggering rate. Considered the greatest professional bodybuilder and powerlifter of all time, Muscle Girl has the unquestioned respect of every man and woman in the business.

She’s gained endorsement contracts, movie deals and is an international celebrity. People around the globe admire Muscle Girl’s massive size, unparalleled physical strength, supermodel-like beauty, stark femininity and undisputed greatness.

She’s out-lifted male athletes and bodybuilders. Feminists and social critics praise Her as shattering the stereotype that women are the weaker sex. Muscle Girl is admired for being a woman who, through self-determination and iron will, can achieve anything.

Muscle Girl has become a social icon, a symbol, a cultural warrior.

But none of that matters now. Little does the outside world know that Muscle Girl’s heart belongs to the most unlikely fellow: a short, skinny soft-spoken Asian American young man named Jonathan. Muscle Girl and Asian Boy have dated for almost a year without the paparazzi or even their own families knowing about it.

They prefer their secret relationship stay that way.

But they’re not ashamed of their love. On the contrary, Muscle Girl and Asian Boy would not hesitate to publicly profess their undying love for each other…except they don’t want the perils of fame and fortune getting in the way of their passionate relationship.

Both will admit the jarring contrast between the two: A short, nerdy Asian boy dating a large, tall powerful muscular woman. They turn heads when they’re seen in public together. But they could care less what people think. All they care about is the love they have for each other.

A romantic sunset on the beach.
A romantic sunset on the beach.

The beach house belongs to a friend of Muscle Girl, some rich Hollywood executive. He let Muscle Girl and Asian Boy borrow the house for the week. This unorthodox couple has spent their time exploring the island, eating the local food, exercising at the local gyms, swimming in the Caribbean Sea, soaking up the sun and…

Most of all, their favorite pastime: making love.

Asian Boy and Muscle Girl make love constantly and passionately, the internal fire burning inside them refusing to die. When they join together their bodies become one; two unlikely lovers becoming whole.

Upon returning to the beach house, Muscle Girl takes a shower while Asian Boy starts a fire in the fireplace. He pours two glasses of champagne and grabs a fruit platter out of the refrigerator. He then sits and reflects on how they came to this point.

They met when Asian Boy was working as a freelance photographer. One day Muscle Girl was in town to promote Her new line of health clubs. Asian Boy was assigned to snap a few photos of this international celebrity. When they met, it was magic. Muscle Girl was wearing a sports bra and shorts. Asian Boy stood there watching Her, clutching his camera toward his chest. Their eyes met. They knew they had connected on a metaphysical level. She came to him. He said something to Her. She laughed.

The rest, as they say, is history.

When the shower stops, Asian Boy turns around. Sure enough, right on cue, Muscle Girl walks out wearing nothing but a white towel around her torso.

Asian Boy’s heart stops, as it always does.

Though he’s seen Her naked thousands of times, Her magnificent body never fails to steal his breath. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get accustomed to seeing Michelle’s Goddess figure in all its glory.

Muscle Girl: “You poured two glasses of champagne.”

Asian Boy: “Yes, one for me and one for you. Here you go, darling.”

Muscle Girl: “Thank you, lover.”

She takes a sip of Her champagne and sighs deeply. She’s been under a lot of stress lately and desperately needed this vacation to relax and unwind.

Asian Boy: “You never cease to amaze me. You look absolutely gorgeous. Beautiful beyond words.”

Muscle Girl: “Thank you, lover. You look amazing, too.”

He blushes, knowing he’s light years away from looking as great as Her. Sensing his insecurity, Muscle Girl puts the glass of champagne down on the bedside table and approaches Asian Boy slowly. She wraps her thick, strong arms around him and embraces him tightly, communicating Her undying love for him.

They share a long fervent kiss, a spiritual exchange of affection that makes his heart race. She has to look down to meet his lips. He has to look up and stand on his toes.

When they come apart, they stare intimately into each other’s eyes. They know what’s next. Asian Boy opens a window and lets a cool breeze enter. Muscle Girl turns off the lights and allows the fire’s celestial glow to fill the room.

Asian Boy begins to remove his clothing as he has often done in front of Her. Muscle Girl lets the bath towel drop and pool around Her feet, revealing her nude form.

She’s as tall as a basketball player and as thick as a wrestler. She’s a natural blonde with faint traces of white hair mixed in between. Her legs are long and as thick as tree trunks. Her arms bulge in every direction, Her pumped biceps as big as cantaloupes. Her shoulders stretch at least a yard across. Her back is covered with layers and layers of mounds of pure muscle. Her abdomen proudly shows off Her swollen six-pack, a jaw-dropping reminder that Her strong chiseled core could take a punch from a heavyweight prize fighter and not break. Her skin is tanned and rough as leather. At 48 years old, Her age lines and wrinkles do nothing to distract from Her perfectly proportioned face.

She has the body of a Greek goddess, the face of a supermodel, the will power of a marathon runner and the intelligence of an Ivy League professor. It’s by no mistake that She’s the wealthiest female athlete in the world. Her business savvy and unequaled physical strength is the reason why She’s a superstar celebrity. No doubt She’s the most beautiful and intelligent woman he’s ever met.

Asian Boy: “You look divine. I love the way the light from the fire casts shadows across your muscular body. Amazing.”

Muscle Girl: “You’re too kind, lover. Way too kind! Here, let me help you with that.”

Muscle Girl reaches down and unzips Asian Boy’s pants. She pulls down his underwear to reveal his erection, hot and ready for her. Asian Boy knows he isn’t gifted with a large endowment, but that never gets in the way of their lovemaking. She insists size doesn’t matter to Her. Even though he knows She would never lie to him, a small part of him still feels insecure.

Once Asian Boy removes his last article of clothing, hand in hand the two lovers walk to the bed and lie down. Their hands ravenously explore each other’s bodies, touching with finesse and familiarity. He toys with Her nipples, making them stand at attention. She reaches down and strokes his thighs, making him want Her more. They kiss, savoring every single taste.

The tip of his penis brushes slightly against Her six-pack abs. He lets out a soft moan, telling Her he’s more than ready. But She doesn’t want him to enter Her yet. She wants to take this leisurely and enjoy the moment.

Muscle Girl grabs the fruit platter and takes a small sip of Her champagne.

Muscle Girl: “Place the fruit across my body.”

Asian Boy does so without saying a word.

One by one, he places thinly sliced pieces of mango, papaya and pineapple across Her buff body. He puts two blueberries on top of her sensitive nipples and a slice of watermelon across Her wet vulva. He reaches down and tenderly strokes Her enlarged two inch-long clitoris. After years of taking synthetic male hormones, Muscle Girl’s feminine parts grew to superhuman proportions. Unexpectedly, her clitoris expanded by an unbelievable two inches. She refers to this as Her “little penis.”

Asian Boy, constantly taunted by society for having a tiny penis, feels intimidated that a woman could have such an endowment. But he continues to stroke Her little penis and gets down to taste between Her legs.

Muscle Girl: “I like this, lover. I like this a lot.”

Asian Boy puts Her little penis into his mouth and sucks on it joyfully. Muscle Girl chews on a piece of papaya while he satisfies Her. She gags as she comes, a powerful orgasm ripping through Her body. Asian Boy feels the whole bed shake as Her vagina contracts wildly in response.

Minutes later, Asian Boy and Muscle Girl eat all the fruit off Her body. She decides foreplay is over.

Muscle Girl: “Enter me, lover.”

Muscle Girl, now on Her back, spreads Her legs wide for him. Asian Boy grips Her hips, positioning the head of his penis onto Her vulva and enters Her with a single thrust. Both lovers let out a moan as they connect at their most intimate parts, a transcendental form of communication only two perfect lovers could understand.

Slowly he rocks back and forth, building to what would be an earth-shattering climax. They stare into each other’s eyes, expressing a love so beautiful and perfect no two people would ever be able to replicate it. Every nerve ending in his manhood erupts with pleasure as he goes in and out of Her.

Finally, Asian Boy climaxes, emptying himself into Her, hot and sticky.

Muscle Girl, however, does not climax and is hungry for Her own orgasm. She gets up and reaches for the bedside drawer and takes out a nine inch long black dildo. Asian Boy grabs a bottle of lubricant and applies some onto the dildo’s daunting shaft. Muscle Girl leisurely inserts the dildo into Her vaginal canal, enjoying every inch of it. Asian Boy sits back and finishes his champagne.

Her breathing quickens as Her orgasm builds. He watches keenly, wondering if he should be jealous of this nine inch-long contraption. His concentration breaks as She climaxes for the second time, a small amount of feminine juice gushing from Her loins and staining the bed sheets. Muscle Girl, breathless and wheezing furiously, looks down at Her mess.

Muscle Girl: “Looks like I just wet the bed, huh?”

Asian Boy: “Yes you did! We can clean that up later.”

Muscle Girl takes the dildo out of Her womanhood and places it on top of the drawer. She looks at Asian Boy and immediately senses his feeling of emasculation. They live in a cruel world that relentlessly emasculates Asian men. She knows that and kisses him deeply, tasting his essence.

She guides his hands down, encouraging his fingers to enter Her. First, one finger was inside Her. Then two. Then three. Eventually, his entire fist is completely inside Her. She continues to kiss him as his fist pounds into Her, eventually delivering Her third orgasm. Muscle Girl lets out an uninhibited scream. Asian Boy removes his hand from Her vagina.

Muscle Girl finishes Her champagne and eats the last of the fruit, sweat beading on Her coarse skin. To complete the night, they decide to do something they’d only done a few times before.

Muscle Girl dabs a generous amount of lubricant on Asian Boy’s penis and tickles his scrotum. His erection returns. Muscle Girl turns around and gets down on Her hands and knees.

Muscle Girl: “Enter me again, lover. But you know where I want it.”

Asian Boy: “Yes, lover.”

Asian Boy puts his hands on Her bottom, admiring its shape. Then, he thrusts his entire manhood into Her anus, eliciting a throaty moan from both lovers.

Asian Boy: “Am I hurting you?”

Muscle Girl: “Yes, but I don’t care. Do it. I want you to.”

Asian Boy pushes in and out of Her, filling Her tightness with his small manhood. Her groans of pain become louder as his thrusting becomes faster. Both lovers let out a scream so loudly and passionately they could care less if the entire world hears them. To hell with the world.

Muscle Girl stifles a moan as Asian Boy climaxes for the second time that night, filling Her anal cavity with his seed. He immediately pulls out and kisses the back of Her neck. He falls on top of Her and they lay there motionless, their skin covered in sweat.

Muscle Girl: “I love you, Jonathan.”

Asian Boy: “I love you, Michelle.”

Muscle Girl and Asian Boy instantly fall into a peaceful slumber, the cool breeze from outside blanketing their bodies.

Asian Boy then wakes up. Not in the beach house, but in his apartment. Alone, he realizes he’d been dreaming. His computer screen is black and it’s nearly 3:00 a.m. He turns off the computer and rolls onto his side.

He can’t stop fantasizing about Her. He can’t stop imagining what it would be like to make love to a beautiful muscular woman like Her.

Asian Boy silently says a prayer to the Heavens, wishing Her good luck and sweet dreams. Once again, he couldn’t explain how he knew, but Asian Boy senses She heard his prayer. He knew, in a cosmic way, Muscle Girl heard all of his prayers.

His last thought before drifting off to sleep was a thankful wish to Her. Thank you for being a part of my life, he prays, even though She doesn’t know he exist. But he knows She exists, and that’s all that matters.

Goodnight, Muscle Girl.

Goodnight, Asian Boy.

My First Ever Up Close and Personal Encounter with a Female Bodybuilder

No, I did not meet the lovely Dena Westerfield.
No, I did not meet the lovely Dena Westerfield.

I may have written once or twice about the subject of female bodybuilders and my special attraction and fascination with them. I find them alluring, physically beautiful beyond words and intriguing on multiple levels.

But until recently, I’d never actually had a real encounter with a muscular woman. My only experiences with FBBs have been limited to web searches (Thank God for the Internet!) and what I see in the media. But that all changed two weeks ago.

Two weeks ago I was working out at the gym on a typical Saturday afternoon. I had just got done doing a grueling shoulder and back workout and had moved on to doing some stretching. The stretching mats are located next to a large room where classes are typically held; such as yoga, martial arts aerobics and dancing. On this particular day, there was a Zumba class in session with loud music blaring and rattling the whole building. Large windows showed a jam packed room full of sweaty people, most of them young attractive women, dancing their way to thinness and improved cardio vascular endurance.

During a brief water break, several ladies exited the classroom to take a drink from the water fountains. As a typical straight guy, I try to catch glimpses of all the cute girls wearing skin-tight clothing without looking like a creepy stalker. I hope I succeed on this level.

But one particular young lady caught my eye. She was short, probably no taller than 5’1” or 5’ flat. She had long brown hair that was tied in a ponytail. She was young, most likely between 25 and 30 years old. She wore tight shorts and a sports bra.

But what really made her stand out was her body. Holy cow! This woman was covered with lean, bulging muscles. It also helped that her outfit generously showed off her magnificent figure for all to see.

I didn't meet Nicole Berg either, despite the fact that she's a Pacific Northwest native.
I didn’t meet Nicole Berg either, despite the fact that she’s a Pacific Northwest native.

I don’t think she’s a professional bodybuilder, but she certainly looks like someone who takes her lifting seriously. What really struck me was the fact that I’d never seen her before. I’ve been going to this gym for more than a year and I’ve come to recognize all the “regulars.” You know who they are. I’m even on a first-name basis with some of my fellow gym rats.

But I’ve never seen her before! I’ve nicknamed her “Buff Girl” because that’s exactly who she is: really, really muscular. Not muscular like Alina Popa or Katka Kyptova, but she definitely holds her own compared to 99.999% of the women who work out at my gym regularly.

I was surprised at how quickly I noticed Buff Girl. She was in a large crowd of at least 80 to 120 other people, but my eyes immediately picked up on her amazing body. It’s more amazing considering she’s short. But nevertheless, my eyes instantly saw her large shoulders, rounded butt, thick legs and bulging biceps. And once my eyes were on her, they remained on her until the moment she ended her work out and headed back to the women’s locker room.

Forget stretching. All I could focus on was her incredible physique!

(As a side note, I don’t have a photo of her because I’m not THAT kind of guy. Besides, I never bring my phone with me when I work out. The music they play over the PA system is good enough for me.)

How would you react if you saw a woman who looked like Joanna Thomas?
How would you react if you saw a woman who looked like Joanna Thomas?

In my estimate, my eyes were on her for no more than ten minutes. Then she was gone. The Zumba class was nearing its end when I came to the stretching mats. At one point, we walked past each other when I went to the water fountain and she was going back to the classroom. I tried to check her out without staring like a hormonal teenager boy. All you readers out there should know exactly what I’m talking about. We’re all walked past Mister or Miss Dreamy on the streets and tried to feast our eyes on them without being too obvious.

Yikes! She was even more beautiful up close than from a distance. Sheesh!

Sigh. I’ll never forget my first ever up close and personal (even though I never actually SPOKE to her) encounter with a beautiful, muscular woman.

And what an experience it was.

I'd be distracted if I had to workout next to Debbie Bramwell.
I’d be distracted if I had to workout next to Debbie Bramwell.

Hopefully, sometime in the near future I’ll see her again. Maybe I’ll cleverly find a way to strike up a conversation with her. That sort of thing happens in gyms all the time. Mostly, I’m just curious to know how being a muscular woman affects how people treat her. I’d imagine she gets second and third looks all the time when in public. I would also imagine lots of creepy guys hit on her (and perhaps some ladies) and give her all sorts of unwanted attention. I definitely don’t want to be that type of guy.

So here’s to you, Buff Girl. I have no idea where you came from or where you live, but your hard work hasn’t gone unappreciated. The humble writer of this blog article unquestionably appreciates all the blood, sweat and tears you’ve put into crafting your physical canvas.

I just hope no one out there thinks I’m creepy!

The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Twenty-One – Cheering Up

I need some cheering up. It’s Saturday afternoon and I’m still not close to landing a replacement job. I realize it’s been less than a week, but there’s got to be something out there for me, right?

Uh, maybe not. Maybe there isn’t anything out there for me right now.

I mean, I’m not going to become a high class drug dealer and follow Sam’s footsteps. I have standards! I’m more willing to go back to that God-forsaken temporary staffing place than sell dope to the rich and famous.

Sheesh. I really need some cheering up.

And I think I know the precise medicine: spending another night with Cindi.

Oh, Cindi. You are so beautiful. Tall, muscular, powerful, sexually confident, compassionate, funny, intelligent, gentle…you get it. She’s awesome. So fucking awesome.

God, I need some Cindi North right now! Like, right now! This very instant.

Now.

But it’s Saturday afternoon, so I’m just a few hours closer to seeing the Divine Muscle Goddess again. I promised last time that I’d bring something other than a bottle of wine, so I better keep that promise. What should I bring? I think something healthy and delicious will give me bonus points with her. Let’s check out what the interwebs can tell me…

Hmmm. Gluten-free Yorkshire pudding? Yuck. That doesn’t sound too appetizing.

I don’t think I should do anything with meat. I’m sure Cindi loves a good steak like anybody else, but she said something healthy, so I better stick to the script on this one. How about…

Oh! Here it is! “Curried couscous and red pepper salad.” That sounds delectable. In fact, that sounds pretty darn good. I think I’ll make that.

I run down the street to the store and buy all the necessary ingredients. While standing in the check-out line I see a former co-worker from Wellford Fitness Center and divert my eyes in order to prevent him from seeing me. When I see him leave, I begin to wonder: does everybody know about me and Michelle? Does everyone there know we got fired because we were caught by the boss going at it like dogs at 10:30 in the morning?

No doubt, but I still don’t want to be seen in public by any of them. Granted, I have nothing to be ashamed about. I mean, what straight guy wouldn’t be proud to have had sex with a gorgeous blonde like Michelle? I’d shake the hand of the guy who’s lucky enough to score someone as hot as her.

Which makes me also wonder: In the past few weeks, I’ve been with a strong female bodybuilder AND a hot blonde. Just thinking about that makes me smile with pride. Knowing I was a virgin not so long ago nearly makes me laugh out loud.

As I prepare this couscous salad, it starts to sink in that I’m going to see the Lovely Muscle Angel in less than three hours. She didn’t give me a specific time to show up, but I’m going to assume 5 o’clock should be acceptable.

The clock on the wall says 4:38. Time to go!

I quickly wrap the bowl of curried couscous and red pepper salad (which I tasted before to make sure it’s good) in plastic wrapping and scurry out the door excitedly. It’s not every day you get to meet up with an amazing muscle woman like Miss Cindi North!

The drive up to Everett zooms by quicker than a fat kid eating a Twinkie (yes, I just used this lousy analogy. Live with it). I decide to go the speed limit instead of flooring the pedal because I can’t afford to get a speeding ticket at this time. I’m broke and unemployed. A fine from Johnny Law would not bode well for me.

When I arrive at her house I notice not a single car is parked near her driveway. Is she not here yet? I’m here a bit before 5 p.m., but she should be expecting me. Maybe she parked her car in her garage. That’s always a possibility.

Just then, out of the corner of my eye I see a trashy blue sedan park right in front of me. I look forward and see a big, burly dark haired woman sitting in the driver’s seat. Yup, that’s her alright!

We both get out of our cars and lock our doors simultaneously. We stare at each other and smile unapologetically.

“Ryan! It’s good to see you! Were you waiting for me for a long time?”

“No. I just got here, literally a minute ago. No, you’re fine.”

Carrying two large grocery bags, Cindi looks as stunning as ever. Dressed in a tight pink top and baggy dark green sweat pants, she seems to become more muscular every time I see her. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Cindi North’s body will never cease to amaze me. Never.

“Come on in. I just did some shopping for dinner tonight. And other things, of course. It’s convenient when the store is right across the street from the gym.”

“I know the feeling.”

Cindi escorts us inside her house. I shut the door close behind me. She immediately heads over to the kitchen to put her groceries away. I follow her, clutching my bowl of curried couscous and red pepper salad tightly in my arms.

“What did you bring, lover?” Cindi asks while putting items away in the refrigerator.

“I made a salad. Something healthy. I hope you like it. It’s a curried couscous and red pepper salad. I tasted it ahead of time. It’s quite good.”

“Wow! That sounds incredible. I can’t wait to try it.” Placing several cans of tomato sauce into a cupboard, Cindi seems to be in a more festive mood than usual.

“You seem upbeat, Cindi. Dare I ask why?”

“Do I? I guess I do feel a bit snazzier tonight. Maybe it’s because I just a modeling job this morning!”

“Really? You got a modeling job? Congratulations. That sounds like a fantastic opportunity.”

“It really is. It’s with this new modeling agency that specializes in featuring unorthodox and nontraditional types of models. As a female bodybuilder, I guess I fit that bill.” Cindi is now pouring salt and extra virgin olive oil into a large soup pot. She turns the stove on to “medium” and takes more items out of her grocery bags, including various vegetables and spices.

“Well, you are a nontraditional looking woman. Not too many ladies around here have as much muscle as you, I must say.” My mouth becomes dry as I scan up and down her buff body.

“Yeah, this is true. I’m happy to get the exposure that comes from modeling. I know they’re a small company and I’m just one of many models they’ve hired, but I get a feeling this is the start of something special!”

An hour later, Cindi puts the finishing touches on dinner. We end up eating a lovely leek and spinach tomato stew served with my salad and a freshly baked baguette. Toward the end of dinner Cindi brings out a delightful bottle of merlot that we nearly finish all at once. A good time was had by all.

“That was delicious, Cindi.”

“Thank you! I’m glad you enjoyed it. This was a recipe I got from Julie.” Cindi and I clean up the dining table and place our dishes in the sink. I courteously give them a good rinse.

“What’s Julie up to these days?”

“She’s doing great. She’s training for a major competition that I’m going to skip this year. I’ve won it before and I don’t need to win it again. I feel like if I don’t compete she’ll have a better chance of winning.”

“So you think you’ll win again if you decided to compete?”

Cindi turns toward me and stares at me straight into the eyes. Her face is deadly serious.

“Of course. I always win. I’m practically letting her win.”

Silence.

We both burst out laughing. This is what I LOVE about Cindi North. She’s big, strong and tough as nails but she has a huge soft spot underneath all her layers of muscle and brawn. We share a kiss after our laughter dies out.

“You taste delicious, Ryan.” Cindi licks her lips, tasting my essence.

“You taste like leeks,” I deadpan.

Cindi giggles and kisses me again, this time deeper and with more passion. I feel her tongue piercing inside my mouth, exploring me feverously.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Cindi whispers into my ear. I nod my head in agreement. And with that, we walk hand-in-hand up to her bedroom, as if we’ve done this many times before. In a strange and unusual way, it genuinely feels like we’ve done this a million times in the past. I can’t explain why, but this feels SOOOOOOOO right.

We enter her bedroom and instantaneously begin our mating ritual. She closes the blinds and I close the door. We simultaneously turn toward each other and begin our stare-down, like two scruffy gunslingers in the Old West. Cindi walks to me and wraps her strong arms around my entire body. I quiver at the feeling of her vascular, veiny arms poking into my softer skin. I feel my manhood harden as I have to look up to reach her lips.

We kiss. Again. And again, and again, and again. We love kissing. Next to coital penetration, it might be our favorite shared physical activity.

After a moment of stillness, Cindi lifts my shirt over my head and starts kissing my stomach and moves up to my chest and neck. I reach down and pull her sweatpants down, fondling her massive legs one thigh at a time. I feel the deep curves within her strong quads and shiver at their thickness. Cindi licks my Adam’s apple, causing me to squirm in response. She massages the back of my neck in an effort to relax me.

“You smell so good right now,” I whisper into the open. Cindi answers back by gently biting into my shoulder. I tremble as her teeth lovingly sink into my flesh.

Cindi unilaterally strips off her pink top, revealing her wide chest. She’s not wearing a bra, so I immediately suck on her left nipple and stroke the other with my fingertips. Cindi unzips my pants and pulls them down toward my ankles. I kick them away and bend down to remove my socks. Barefoot, Cindi is left wearing nothing but lacy white panties which are already soaking wet. I feel her vulva to get a better sense of her feminine moisture. She smiles.

“I was ready half way through dinner,” she chuckles.

“Why didn’t we starting doing it then?” I ask.

“I wanted to eat first.”

“Well…I want to eat NOW.” I bend down and pull down her panties and begin licking her vulva with all the strength of my tongue. Cindi laughs at my terrible joke but stops when she feels my tongue explore the inside of her intimate parts.

“Make me come, Ryan. Make my come!” Cindi commands, standing there as naked as the day she was born.

I push Cindi onto the bed and she flops down on her back. Surprised at my unexpected display of brute strength, she moans delightfully as I continue to orally satisfy her. Her large clitoris stands at attention, her “little penis” occupying more and more of my attention. I get the feeling Cindi likes a man who takes control in bed. Though I may not be the most experienced lover in the world, I’ve learned a lot in the past few weeks and I’m becoming more comfortable taking the lead.

I grip her hips firmly as my tongue continues to please her beautiful vulva. I then fully concentrate on her clitoris in order to bring her to orgasm. Cindi’s breathing quickens as I continue to massage her girly penis. I stick my right index finger inside of her and find her g-spot.

“Ryan! I love you, Ryan!” Cindi candidly yells out in the heat of passion. Her gorgeous clitoris takes one final tongue lashing before Cindi finally climaxes. I press onto her g-spot when I sense she’s successfully reached her moment of ecstasy.

“Ohhhh!!!!!!” Cindi moans, expressing her pleasure unashamedly. Her vaginal walls contract rhythmically as a modest amount of white milky fluid gradually drips out of her, staining her bedspread.

I remain still as Cindi finishes wriggling around the bed, enjoying the aftershocks of her pleasure. Her breathing subsides to normalcy as my erection lays across her right thigh, ready to be pleased. I lean over and kiss her eight-pack abs, one individual ab at a time. I lick her bellybutton as well.

She briefly starts to stroke my penis, forcing a small drip of clear fluid to escape from it. But Cindi decides now is not the time to satisfy me yet. She gets up in a sitting position and wipes a small amount of vaginal juice that leaked onto her bottom. She kisses me again, sending electric jolts running through my entire system. Her hands explore my hands as her large, strong fingers interlock with my smaller, softer fingers. We look at each other.

“Before I satisfy you, I want you to do something for me.”

“Anything, Cindi. I’ll do anything. Just ask.”

Cindi kisses me again, firmly grabbing both of my hands. She takes a few of my fingers into her mouth and sucks on them sensually. I feel like my erection is about to explode, but I contain my excitement and enjoy the pleasure she is giving me.

She leans over and nibbles on my ear. She rubs her saliva onto my fingers.

“Fist me,” she whispers.

The Strangeness of Having a Female Muscle Fetish

Lauren Powers is lovely.

I often wonder how many straight men, if they were forced to give an honest answer, would admit to being attracted to muscular women.

Mainstream society tends to frown upon women who’ve gained too much muscle. For example, we like our female athletes to remain feminine, beautiful and graceful even when they’re in the middle of hitting a tennis ball, shooting a free throw, skiing, sprinting at full speed or smacking a softball. Gymnasts, naturally, are supposed to be graceful, so this is an obvious exception.

Female athletes like Venus and Serena Williams, Hope Solo and Lolo Jones are right at the cusp of being “too muscular” while remaining “easy on the eyes.” As long as they keep winning Olympic medals and championship trophies, we’ll endure seeing their non-conformist figures on ESPN for now.

But this is not supposed to be a rant against sexism in mainstream American sports. This is about something else entirely.

In a previous post, I talked about the allure of female bodybuilders. This post is by far the most popular individual post I’ve written on this blog. I think its popularity can be credited to two aspects: 1. Search engines like Google and Bing, and 2. Curiosity.

Straight men (I can’t speak for lesbian women) are not often given a forum to discuss weird sexual fetishes in places other than the Internet. You don’t often hear two dudes talk about their love for feet at a crowded Starbucks on a lazy Sunday morning. Nor do you hear a bunch of football lovin’ good ol’ boys talk about their “thing” for overweight MILFs while watching the game at a bar. These are not topics we discuss in public.

So, I will attempt to dissect and explain to the best of my abilities my personal reasons for being sexually attracted to muscular women. Let’s see where this goes…

The Beginning of My Awakening

This is how it all started. Embarrassing, I know.

I understand “The Beginning of My Awakening” sounds ridiculously overdramatic, but bear with me.

I can’t pinpoint an exact time when I began to be attracted to muscled ladies, but I think it can be traced to this one time when I was a little boy (I was probably no more than 8-years-old), I was at a video store (for you young kids out there, once upon a time ago when we wanted to watch a movie we had to go to a video store like Blockbuster or Hollywood Video and rent a VHS cassette. This is practically ancient history) with my mom and I saw the cover for the movie “Red Sonja,” a cheesy 1985 B-action movie starring Brigitte Nielsen and Arnold Schwarzenegger.

I will admit, I’ve never seen this movie nor do I ever plan on seeing it. The 4.7 rating it received on IMDb is not exactly convincing me to go out and rent it.

Alina Popa is divine.

But I distinctly remember, as an impressionable prepubescent little boy, being taken aback by the movie’s cover: It showed two warriors, one male and one female. The male is obviously strong and tough, which any male action hero should be. But seeing a female warrior also look intimidating and ready to kick butt opened my eyes to a whole other world.

Women can be tough, too.

As an 8-year-old boy raised on hyper-violent Saturday morning cartoons and action figures, this was without a doubt a paradigm-shifting realization.

Of course, as I got older I started to “notice” girls once puberty hit. At the tender age of 12, I encountered my second experience with a tough, nontraditional woman. My parents bought a copy of the Guinness Book of World Records for the year 1999 and inside were tons of colorful photos of people doing all sorts of weird and hardcore things.

One page stood out in particular, though: a full color photo of Cory Everson. In it, she looked startling. It was the first time I’d ever seen a woman with bulging muscles all over her body.

She looked freakish; as if she weren’t human. I didn’t want to say she looked gross, but my hormone-driven mind couldn’t process what I was seeing: a woman with muscles. In the years afterward, I would continuously turn back to this particular page to gaze upon this indescribably sight.

Later, when my family first got the Internet (we had dial-up. Remember that?), I discovered the joys of online porn. Like any teenage boy discovering the opposite sex (and the concept of “sex”), viewing pictures of naked women on a computer screen occupied many hours of my life and led me to also discover masturbation, an activity I still enjoy today.

However, it wasn’t until college that I truly became enamored with muscled women.

The Female Muscle Fetish Begins

As a freshman in college, I began to work out regularly. During high school I casually lifted weights at home, but the first time I ever stepped foot into a gym was visiting my university’s recreational center on campus. It was small and, looking back upon it, unremarkable; but it was a gym nevertheless.

I lifted weights probably around three times a week. As a beginning weightlifter, I used poor form and technique like any novice would. It even came to a point when people working out next to me would stop me during my work out and tell me how to do certain lifts the right way. Those were embarrassing moments.

Lisa Marie Bickels changed my life. Will she change yours?

This video changed my life, just like that cover of “Red Sonja” and that photo of Cory Everson. Though the video was amateurish and grainy, it showed a beautiful woman working out and showing off her gorgeous muscled arms. Sculpted and divine, Ms. Bickels opened my eyes to an Earth-shattering fact: muscular women can also be feminine and beautiful.

That hyper-muscular photo of Ms. Everson isn’t the only way to view female bodybuilders. They don’t all look “man-like.” They’re just typical women. The only difference is that they’re women who strive to be as strong as possible.

Who wouldn’t want Czech muscle goddess Katka Kyptova as a workout buddy?

As expected, over time I visited YouTube and watched videos of countless other female bodybuilders such as Karen Zaremba, Maryse Manios, Deidre Pagnanelli, Lynn McCrossin, Monica Brant, Krissy Chin and others. I must have seen literally hundreds of videos during my freshman year of these well-defined ladies posing for photos, doing incredible lifts or being interviewed.

It wasn’t until after graduation when I moved back home that I discovered a whole other world: Hardcore porn.

The World of Smut

I feel like this is a progression. First, it was a cover of a b-movie. Next, it was a sports photo in a record book. Then it was a short online video of a woman exercising. Then it was a whole slew of YouTube videos of muscle ladies doing their thing.

Finally, we get to the next step in my personal muscle fetish evolution: porn.

The first hardcore porn video I ever saw was Lynn McCrossin and Yvette Bova, two gorgeous FBBs, pleasuring each other in a steam room. Before then, I’d never seen a woman’s genitalia up close and personal on a computer screen before. And not just any type of genitalia: These two women have very large feminine endowments, something you don’t see every day.

Yvette Bova is not afraid to flaunt her sexuality.

This epic discovery opened the doors to watching other kinds of videos: Female bodybuilders having sex with men, FBBs having sex with each other, FBBs masturbating, FBBs playing with sex toys, FBBs posing nude, etc. This was the first time I ever saw female bodybuilders as sexual beings. I definitely fantasized about them before, but I’d never actually seen them in action before until now.

Smut can be a funny thing. Once you see what people choose to do in their bedrooms, you can never look at the world the same way.

Watching porn (both hardcore and softcore) introduced me to other female bodybuilders like Francesca Petitjean, Denise Masino, Melissa Dettwiller, Lauren Powers, Gayle Moher, Yvette Bova, Victoria Dominguez, Amber DeLuca, Autumn Raby, Roxie Rain and plenty others. While I don’t want to categorize any of them as “pornographic actresses,” I discovered these women thanks to videos of them either being nude and/or engaging in sex acts.

Another photo of Lisa Cross. There is nothing wrong with this at all.

Along the way, I also discovered other FBBs like Alina Popa, Katka Kyptova, Lisa Cross, Angela Salvagno, Karla Nelsen, Colette Nelson and others via Dailymotion, Google Images and Facebook pages.

Regarding FBBs and porn, I could write a whole post discussing this topic. But for now, I’ll just say this: If a woman (or man) makes an independent decision to pose for photos or shoot videos that are sexually explicit, who are we to judge? It’s their bodies. They can do whatever they want with it.

Fantasy vs. Reality

Unlike a lot of guys who are into muscle women, the sub-genre of erotica called “Female Muscle Growth” stories isn’t really my thing. These stories usually involve a guy meeting a dainty, weak girl who, either by magic or through some scientific potion, grows a freakish amount of muscle to become superhuman. For whatever reason, I’m only attracted to watching and looking at strong, muscled women doing real things; like pumping iron, posing for pictures or doing whatever they do in porn.

Personally, I’ve never met a professional (or amateur) female bodybuilder, so my only exposure to FBBs is through the glorious wonders of the Internet.

The closest I’ve ever been to a real FBB was back in college when, for some reason I could never quite figure out, I walked past a woman (she was older and clearly not a student) in our student union building with huge arms busting out of her short sleeve shirt. I didn’t get a clear look at her, but I could tell she didn’t just casually lift at the gym. I could tell she puts extra effort into her exercising.

Speaking of the gym, most of the women who go to my gym either do only cardio exercises or attend classes like Zumba, Pilates and yoga. Only a small handful of women lift with us guys. Of them, only two of these ladies have any discernible muscle definition. Too bad.

So…in other words, I’m attracted to the real thing, not a fantasy. I’m not turned on by the idea of a strong, muscular woman. I’m turned on by actual strong, muscular women. Nor do I have any alternative fantasies involving role playing or BDSM.

The idea of wrestling an FBB doesn’t appeal to me. Neither is being tied up and spanked by one. Nor do I want an FBB to wrap her legs around me in a headlock. Instead, I’d prefer to make love to a beautiful, strong athletic woman just as though she were any other kind of woman.

Karen Zaremba is living proof that muscles doesn’t in any way shape or form compromise a woman’s femininity.

I guess this means I don’t necessarily fetishize female bodybuilders; I’m just attracted to them in a special way. They’re women who take great care of their bodies. They’re women who spend countless hours pumping iron at the gym and making lots of dietary and lifestyle sacrifices in order to get their bodies to look the way they want it to look. There’s a lot to admire about that.

Some women starve themselves to look “beautiful.” Others go under the knife to remove any perceived “blemishes.” Some hate themselves because when they look in the mirror all they can see are “imperfections.” My previous post about FBBs best summarizes why I’m personally attracted to a woman with muscle. The purpose of this post is to give you some context and perhaps a deeper explanation.

So…What’s the Big Deal Anyway?

Simply put, I’m attracted to female bodybuilders because they are, quite simply, beautiful. I hope others who share my attraction feel the same way. I hope you now understand that being attracted to a lovely muscled lady isn’t weird, strange or disgusting. There’s nothing incomprehensible about it.

A woman with muscles is still a woman. She’s not a woman trying to be a man. She’s a woman trying to become the best woman she can possibly be. That’s another great reason to be physically and emotionally attracted to her.

Perhaps, little by little, society can start accepting muscular woman as a normal thing instead of a freak of nature. I strongly believe when people are disgusted by a muscled woman, it’s because there’s some deep rooted sexism at play. Plenty of people in our society still expect women to be dainty, weak and ultra-feminine. Anyone who rebels against this is either a “gender traitor” or a monster.

Look at the photos of the FBBs I’ve put in this post. Are any of them disgusting to you? Do you find any of them “masculine,” “repulsive,” or “monstrous?” If you do, I think that reflects more on you than it does on me.

But please don’t misinterpret me. I’m not claiming to be some quasi-feminist activist. I’m not claiming to be “sexually progressive” in my attraction to FBBs. I’m not trying to destroy the foundations of gender roles or sexual politics by this post or through my blog. All I want to do is express my opinion that being attracted to a muscular woman isn’t all that strange.

In fact, it makes a lot of sense. Muscular women are healthy, curvy, dedicated, passionate and strong-willed. Who could possibly be turned off by that?

So the next time you encounter or see an image of a female bodybuilder, female athlete or a woman who takes her fitness hobbies very seriously, keep an open mind and try to appreciate a different side of life.

Who knows? You might just enjoy it.

You also might enjoy this shot of the lovely Victoria Dominguez.

The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Seventeen – Rounds Three, Four and Five

Cindi turns on the hot water and runs her fingers through it; feeling its warmth. As for me, I’m already hot, if you know what I mean. Steaming hot.

But not as hot as Cindi. She’s more scorching than the center of the sun.

Already naked and dripping with sweat, we hop into the shower and feel the hot water cascade off our bodies. The shower stall is almost too small to fit the both of us. Cindi is a ridiculously massive woman who takes up a lot of space. I’m surprised the two of us can even fit in here together.

“Are you cramped?” Cindi asks, her entire body blocking the spraying water.

“No, I’m just fine. Although, it’s a lot tighter in here than I expected.”

“That’s what she said.”

Pause.

“Oh my God!” I burst out laughing, throwing my head back and feeling the water shoot out onto my neck. Cindi joins me in laughing and massages my hips with her bulky hands.

“I can be a little dirty when it’s the right occasion.”

“Dirty? I thought we’re in here to get clean.”

“Hm. That’s what you think.”

Planting a long, passionate kiss on my lips, I taste her feminine essence and love every moment of it. She’s tall, muscular, strong as an ox, but very feminine at the same time. She’s absolutely remarkable and without peer.

Cindi opens a bottle of shampoo and lathers her long black (with gray streaks) hair. I follow suit, except I use a lot less shampoo because my hair is considerably shorter. She takes the bottle, squirts a small amount of soap in the palm of her hand and wrings both hands together. Full of bubbles and froth, Cindi reaches down and soaps up my limp penis, which immediately springs to life. I moan as her soapy, calloused fingers work their magic on my manhood.

I take her left nipple into my mouth, sucking on it till it stands at attention. I take her other nipple into my mouth as she rubs my scrotum to her heart’s content. I look up and place my chin on top of her breasts, like a child looking up at his mommy. Cindi stares down back at me, a fabulous grin stretching across her face.

“Let’s get dirty, Ryan.”

“I want to so get dirty with you, Cindi dear.”

My penis once again fully engorged, Cindi puts down the bottle of shampoo and grabs a bar of soap. She brushes it from the top of her neck all the way down to her abs. A white line remains on her brown skin, trailing the soap’s pathway.

“Wash me,” Cindi commands.

Not hesitating, I take the bar of soap from her and rub it up and down her tree trunk legs. If I had to cover her entire body with soap, I might need at least eight or nine bars to do the job!

I squat down and kiss her knees as the hot water continues to jet off our bodies. Suddenly, a crazy idea pops into my head. I hope this works!

“Spread your legs,” I demand.

“Oooh, are you giving me orders?”

“Yes, I’m giving you orders. Now spread your legs. Now!”

“I like your authority! I like this a lot! You ARE a dirty boy!”

“Not as dirty as you think.”

Before she could say anything else, I spread her labia with two of my fingers and rub the bar of soap across her swollen, enlarged clitoris. She groans, expressing her careless enjoyment. Impulsively, I shove the entire bar of soap up her vagina, using the palm of my hand to jam it in completely.

“Oh!!!!!!” Cindi suddenly cries out; either out of pleasure, pain or utter surprise. Not sure if I’ve done anything wrong, I stand up and look at her face, trying to see if I’ve crossed a boundary with this reckless move.

“Are you okay? Should I take it out?”

Cindi’s entire body shudders. She closes her eyes and opens them, glaring straight at me. I’m afraid. Afraid that she might hurt me or that she might be mad at me. My heart stops.

“That…feels…amazing! What made you do that?”

“Uh, I was being impulsive, that’s all. Does it hurt?”

“No, not at all. I’m already wet down there, but if we hadn’t just had sex, it might hurt. But damn, that was really unexpected! Good job, sweetie!” Unsure how to react, she leans down and kisses me hard, making my knees buckle and nearly forcing me to fall down. I then remember the bar of soap is still inside her vagina. Wow, there must be a kinky side to me that I’m just now discovering!

I squat down again, reach toward her vulva, pinch the bar of soap between my fingers and quickly yank it out. Cindi gasps loudly, expressing pleasure (I hope!) at this sudden move. Her entire womanhood is covered in sticky white foam.

“Ryan, there’s soap inside my pussy.”

“Sorry, Cindi.”

“Don’t be sorry. Clean it out. Now.”

“How should I clean it out?”

“Use your imagination.” She grips my penis with her fingers, stroking any remaining soap off of it. If she grips any harder, I might come again and will have to wait another fifteen minutes. But I take the hint and follow her innuendo.

“Turn around.”

“What?” Cindi asks, confused.

“I said, turn around. Please.”

“Hey! Don’t say ‘please.’ Be a man. Tell me what to do!”

“Turn around! Do it! Now!”

“Yes, sir!”

She follows my orders and turns her gargantuan body around so she’s facing the shower spray while I get all the mist that seeps through. I bend down and kiss her amazing body from her lower back all the way up to her neck. I feel goosebumps spring up across her flesh as my lips caress her rough, coarse brown skin. The tip of my erect penis scratches across her right butt cheek. Not wanting to lose control over her (is she wanting me to give her orders?), I make a pro-active choice and stick my left index finger up her anus while I reach forward and brush my other fingers across her lips. She tastes my fingers, stroking it with her tongue.

Cindi lets out a fervent moan, expressing her delight. My finger still up her anus, I lean toward her ear and whisper one final commandment to Miss North:

“Spread your legs, darling. Do it, for me.”

Immediately on cue, Cindi widens her stance and sticks her butt out toward me, her strong glutes pressing against my loins. I withdraw my finger from her anus and grapple her hips with both of my hands. I feel the adrenaline pumping through me as I’ve only dreamed of doing these sort of acts to a woman. Right now, in this moment, I’m living out those dreams. And from the sounds of her moaning, this woman is enjoying every minute of it just as I am.

“Take me!” Cindi screams at the top of her lungs, hot water streaming down her magnificent body. To hell if the whole world hears. She could care less.

“Yes, Cindi.”

I grip the base of my penis and slide inside Cindi’s soapy vagina, nice and slow, savoring every sensation. The soap helps me enter her fully. Slick and wet, I pump back and forth at an unhurried pace, feeling my orgasm build, enjoying the moment. I hope this moment never ends. Ever.

“Yes…yes…do it Ryan. Do it…for me! Do it for me, Ryan!”

I dig my fingers into her fleshy, muscular hips and quicken my pace. My orgasm overtakes every fiber in my body, as if millions of pleasurable sensations are jolting through my soul all at once. Pumping into her harder and faster, I feel my climax approaching like a ticking time bomb ready to explode in a frenzy of heat and emotion.

“Fuck me, Ryan Takahashi! Fuck me!” Cindi passionately hollers out, every inhibition in her left at the proverbial door. I could also care less if every single one of her neighbors can hear us making love like two wild animals.

“Ahhhhgggggg!!!!!!” I scream, coming and discharging more of my semen into her. Is this the third time tonight that I’ve climaxed into her? Amazing…

Our heavy breathing abates; our passionate cries turn to satisfied whimpers, our shouts of ecstasy shift into whispers of sweet nothings. Stunned and deeply blissful, we silently finish washing our bodies to scrub off the grime of the day. Cindi shuts off the water and we dry ourselves off. Our third mating session comes to an end, and what an end it was.

Fresh, clean and still very naked, Cindi and I return to her bedroom, holding hands like two long-time lovers. I will treasure this evening for all eternity. For this night, in this house, in this very room, two people enjoyed a shared pleasure that no one else on Earth will ever understand. Absolutely no one. That makes us special.

“Will you spend the night?” Cindi asks, combing her long hair with a brush.

“I can. Do you mind if I do?”

“You are invited to spend the night with me. I’m offering, so of course I don’t mind.”

“Yes. I will spend the night with you. Lover.”

We kiss, but this time without the zeal of two amorous lovers, but with the mutual respect of two deeply connected people expressing their undying devotion to each other. At least, this is how I interpret this particular kiss. I could be wrong.

Or not.

We decide to sleep naked, as if there would be any reason for us to put on clothes. As far as we’re concerned, we could go the rest of our lives without wearing any more clothing. Clothing is for simple humans. We’re more sophisticated and open about our bodies than that.

“Good night, lover.” Cindi kisses my forehead.

“Good night to you too, lover.” I return the kiss, but my lips caress her cheek instead.

Cindi turns off the bedside lamp and we both immediately fall asleep.

About two hours later (judging from the time being 1:35 a.m.), I wake up when I feel wet lips brushing against my shoulder. I open my eyes and turn around. Sure enough, Cindi is wide awake and ready for more. What kind of a sexual appetite does this woman have? Will nothing satisfy her hunger?

“Did I wake you, darling?”

“Yes, you did. But I’m not complaining.” I turn toward her and we kiss.

“Are you up for round four?”

Upon hearing this question, my sagging penis springs to life, as if it’s answering with a resounding “yes” in my honor.

“Let’s make it happen, Miss North.”

Cindi straddles my hips, licks both of my nipples, fondles my stomach with her hard fingers and gracefully engulfs my penis with her entire womanhood. I’m amazed how moist her vagina is at this point, considering we’ve been sleeping for nearly two hours. But here she is, riding me like a cowgirl riding her horse.

Eventually, I climax for a fourth time and spill more of my seed into her divine body. She rolls off me, pecks me on the cheek and gets out of bed.

“I have to pee. I’ll be back.”

“Okay, Cindi.”

I never hear her use the bathroom because I instantly fall back to sleep.

Three and a half hours later, at 5 in the morning, I decide to initiate the impromptu lovemaking session this time. Who says I can’t be the one who does it?

After waking up, I roll on top of Cindi, who stops her quiet snoring and wakes up herself. Groggy and still partially in Dream World, I kiss her and nibble on her nose.

“Are you up for round five?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

We make love missionary style, with me pumping away as she lies on her back, taking in every moment. My fifth climax jolts through me, stealing my breath and sapping any iota of energy I had left. I empty myself into her and plop onto my back. Cindi strokes my cheek with her index finger, wiping off a drop of sweat.

“I’m glad you’re here, Ryan.”

“I’m glad you invited me to spend the night, Cindi.”

“We should do this all the time.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” a happy grin shooting across my face. If she’s being serious, then I just struck gold!

After kissing and fondling each other for several minutes, Cindi and I fall back to sleep again. But this time, we decide to sleep for good. Enough is enough. We’re both spent.

Good night and sweet dreams.

The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Sixteen – Round Two

Cindi and I both sit up and gaze into each other’s eyes. I cup her face and kiss her languorously, savoring the sweet taste of her delicious mouth. I want to experience Cindi through all five of my senses. She’s the type of complex woman who can be experienced in that way.

After our lips come apart, Cindi grabs my hips and pulls me on my back. Experiencing her brute strength further arouses me, as if I needed further help.

Once I’m on my back, Cindi stretches her enormous body above me and kisses me again. This time, she’s the one savoring every moment. Do I taste as sweet to her as she does to me? I highly doubt it.

The sensitive tip of my penis is now brushing against her muscled tummy. I feel a small drop of liquid leak out of my manhood and onto her eight-pack abs. I hope I’m not going to prematurely come again!

“I love you, Ryan,” she whispers into my ear as she grinds her tree trunk legs against my weaker legs.

“I love you too, Cindi,” I whisper back, caressing her thick back muscles. My arms barely reach around her wide torso. Her thickness further arouses my senses.

Did we just exchange affirmations of love? This is getting serious, by God! Or are we just caught up in the moment of sexual ecstasy?

Cindi tosses her head back, her black hair flying backwards out of her face. A single strand falls across her nose. She lets out a short, quick breath to blow it away. It remains in place. I think this is cute. She apparently agrees.

“Being sexy is not one of my best qualities,” Cindi confesses.

“Are you kidding me? You’re the sexiest woman in the world!”

“Thank you, but trust me, acting sexy isn’t really my thing. I’m not comfortable being that way, if you know what I’m saying.”

“That’s okay. Perfectly okay. Just act like yourself. That’s sexy enough for me.”

Cindi smiles widely, accentuating every age line on her face. I reach up and touch her jawline. She takes my fingers into her mouth and sucks on them slowly. My erect penis is now resting straight up across her belly. I swear, if she doesn’t do anything else except suck on my fingers, I might come just because of that!

“I appreciate hearing that, Ryan.” Taking my fingers out of her mouth, she begins to caress my nipples until they both stand up at attention. My fingers wet with her moisture, I mirror her actions and fondle her breasts. Cindi’s large brown areola and long nipples harden as we continue to stroke each other’s chests.

As I prepare to say something in return, Cindi hushes me up by grabbing the base of my penis and squeezing it tightly. I let out a moan of delight. Sensing my readiness (or at this point, over-readiness!), she raises herself onto her knees until her entire body is hovering over mine. The bed squeaks in protest, a direct reaction to a large, muscular woman shaking the very foundations of the Earth.

Slowly but surely, Cindi lowers herself until the entire length of my erect penis enters her vagina. Still hot and moist, Cindi is the antithesis of the stereotypical middle-aged woman who’s lost her sexual vibrancy. When it comes to good, old fashioned lovemaking, Cindi has not skipped a beat, even at the ripe age of 48.

After coming together at our most intimate parts, Cindi sways her hips back and forth and side to side, experimenting with various tempos to see what gives us both maximum pleasure. Her hands explore my shoulders as my hands greedily explore her abdominal muscles and thighs.

Straddling me like a horse, Cindi takes the cowgirl position into full throttle by bouncing her pelvis up and down my shaft, taking in every thrust as if it might be our last. I sure hope this night isn’t our last together!

“Yes, yes, yes!” Cindi growls, anticipating her impending climax. I also sense my own orgasm building, as I’ve stopped stroking her thighs and began gripping her hips to give me better leverage.

I moan loudly as Cindi’s up and down bouncing becomes more frantic, more passionate. She’s looking up at the heavens, her eyes closed, drinking in every sensual moment of our lovemaking. I feel my penis grow harder and harder, explosions of pure pleasure permeating through every fiber of it. I wonder if Cindi is feeling the same way.

As if she’s reading my mind, Cindi reaches down and rubs her clitoris with sudden urgency. Her breathing becomes wild, her inhibitions becoming a thing of the past. I look down and see she’s ferociously massaging her clitoris with three fingers as her pelvis thrusts reach a crescendo.

“Aaaaaaaaagggggghhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, yes!!!!!!!!!!!” Cindi screams at the top of her lungs, her powerful vaginal walls contracting uncontrollably around me.

“Oooohhhhh!!!!” I moan in response as my orgasm reaches its peak. I empty more semen into her, but this time I do it not as an act of lust, but an act of love; an act of a man giving a woman his precious seed as an expression of his affection for her.

My spasms come to an end but my manhood remains impossibly hard, lodged deep inside her womanhood. Cindi collapses on top of me, her breasts digging into my neck. A drip of sweat rolls down her chest and lands on my tongue. She tastes salty but sweet at the same time.

Her strong, musky smell permeates out of every inch of her muscular body. Cindi’s black and gray hair sweep across my face. I still can’t believe I just made love to this Strong Muscle Goddess.

Eventually Cindi rolls off me and onto her side. We exchange a long, deep kiss. Our eyes meet. We kiss again.

“That was fun,” Cindi says breathlessly.

“No kidding. You were amazing. I think I like it better when you’re on top.”

She kisses me on the cheek. I rub her bottom, feeling her taut glutes flex as she shows off her amazing muscle control. How can she be in the mood to flex her muscles at a time like this?

“I’m drenched in sweat, Ryan. Look at me.”

I take a good look at her. Wow! Even with tangled hair, no makeup on her face and sweat dripping from every pore of her body, she still looks a million times more amazing than any other woman on planet Earth. Her glistening sweat shows off her bulging muscles, exaggerating all the curves and curves on top of other curves on her body.

“You look amazing, Cindi. Absolutely amazing.” Stroking her meaty shoulders, I’m reminded of one of those guys you’d see fake-beating someone up on the WWE. Except in this case, it’s not a man. It’s a woman.

“Thank you, lover,” Cindi whispers into my ear, nibbling on it playfully. Is there anything she can do that won’t turn me on? We just got done with round two, but I feel like I could go for round three! And right now, not in a few minutes…

“What are you thinking right now, lover?”

“Honestly? I’m still in shock.”

“In shock about what, darling?”

“In shock about the fact that I just made love to a female bodybuilder. Someone who’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. That’s still unbelievable to me.” I kiss up and down her powerful right arm, savoring every moment, enjoying every inch.

“I’m happy you feel that way. It must be a little unusual being with a woman like me.” Lifting her right arm up, she flexes, proudly showing off her gigantic bicep. She then bounces it up and down, a show of force that rips a chill down my spine all the way to my toes. I don’t think there’s ever been a woman alive in this universe who’s as strong as Cindi North.

“Have you ever met a woman who’s stronger than you?” I ask curiously.

She thinks about it for a moment.

“Yes. I’ve met lots of women who are stronger than me.”

“Are you being serious? Really? Who?”

“Oh, you don’t know them. When you go to as many shows and competitions as I have, you meet a lot of amazing people with unbelievable bodies. I’m sure I’ve met a girl or two who could lift more than me.”

“But do you know for sure?”

She thinks about it again for a moment.

“I think so. There are lots of women out there who are bigger than me.”

“Do they juice like you?” I still kiss her arm, completely oblivious about what I just said.

Cindi stops flexing her bicep and turns to me. I immediately cease kissing her. I sense I’ve said something wrong but I have no idea why. My eyes meet hers.

“Do you think I take steroids?”

I struggle to find the words to respond.

“Uh, um, I think so. But I wasn’t talking about you, I was talking about–”

“Let’s not talk about other people. Let’s talk about me. Do you think I take steroids?”

Uh oh. Did I offend her? Am I making a very large assumption that has no basis of truth? I’ve always assumed she juiced. I mean, take a look at her body! She’s absolutely huge and she has a man’s voice! The evidence certainly implies that she does, or does it?

“Yes…I do. Do you?”

Cindi sits upright and leans her broad back across the headboard of the bed. She stops touching me and scowls at me with contempt. I think I’m screwed; and not in the way that just happened to me a few minutes ago! “Screwed” as in I’m totally fucked because I totally fucked up. Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit…

“No, I do not. I used to, but I don’t. Not anymore. I used to when I was younger, but not today. Not yesterday, not last year, not anymore.”

“Did I offend you?”

Cindi lets out a heavy sigh, closes her eyes and reopens them, staring off into space. She doesn’t seem angry, at least not to the extent that I’m expecting. Maybe I’m not screwed after all.

“Yes, you did. But I’m not surprised that you think I’m juicing. Look, I am big, bigger than most women. But I can assure you I’m not taking any steroids. I did…ten years ago, believe it or not.” Cindi resumes touching me by taking her right hand into mine. I exhale a deep breath knowing she isn’t completely livid at me.

“So…you used to take steroids?”

“Yes, when I was about thirty-seven or thirty-eight, I took steroids so I could become as big as I could possibly be. But that didn’t end up so well.” She stops talking. I should probably change the subject.

“I’m sorry I said that, Cindi. I didn’t know you didn’t. I especially didn’t know it was a sore subject for you.”

“That’s okay, Ryan. I’m fine. I just had a brief flashback from my past. No big deal.” Cindi kisses my cheek and makes her way down to my neck. I cup her breasts and tease her nipples leisurely as my way of apologizing.

NOTE TO SELF: NEVER TALK ABOUT STEROIDS AGAIN WHEN I’M AROUND CINDI NORTH. OVER AND OUT.

“Do you want to take a shower before bed?”

“Can I spend the night?”

“Yes. Do you want to spend the night?”

“Of course. If you’ll let me. I don’t want to intrude. I think I’ve intruded enough already.”

“Like I said, it’s no big deal. I was just a little offended you thought my muscles aren’t natural. They’re all natural, for your information.” Cindi stands up and poses next to her mirror. Showcasing several competitive bodybuilding poses, she demonstrates the enormous size and incredible definition of her muscles, much to the delight of her lone audience member.

Holy cow, I sense my erection returning again!

“Do you like what you see?”

Could there be a more obvious answer?

“Of course I like what I see! I absolutely love what I see. You’re astonishing, Cindi. Thoroughly astonishing. What’s there not to like? You’re all natural, baby!”

With that, Cindi picks me up like a newborn infant and carries me to the bathroom.

“Let’s take a shower together, lover.”

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